The Dragon Among the Wolves
by thesassenach
Summary: With the discovery of her Dovahkiin power, Sofja flees to the protection of the Companions, hiding her secret from all and training to defend herself against any man or beast. However, the Companions have secrets of their own, and Sofja must learn how to survive among the deceit and lies told by those around her—the children of Hircine, who are both men and beasts.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

**Chapter I**

* * *

><p><em><strong>My first fanfiction, which I've actually had sitting on my computer for years. Thought it was time to share! Enjoy!<strong>_

* * *

><p>"I had another dream last night," Kodlak said softly. Vilkas' head shot up; he never understood how this man, who he had looked up to for so many years, could put such faith in such infrequent visions.<p>

Vilkas bit back at the sarcasm that rose in his throat. "A vision… I see. Of what this time?" It would be of no use to patronize the old man. He was far wiser, far braver, and far more in control than Vilkas could ever hope to be. Who knew? After all, maybe Kodlak was right to find some value in it. It was just that his dreams didn't seem to make sense. There was one about the horse rising from a bubbling lake…and the one about the girl carrying the sack of women's heads…oh, and of course, who could forget, the dream in which a dragon swooped in to interrupt a beheading. A dragon! Like some sort of stage play. None of them connected, none of them had come true as far as they had heard (although there had been reports of dragon sightings) and none made sense to Vilkas. Still, Kodlak scribbled them all down in his private journal, glancing over them, sometimes mumbling, contemplating their meanings.

"I hear the doubt in your voice, Vilkas," Kodlak chuckled, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back into his chair. "But I will still tell you what I have seen, and I pray you heed my words well, because they concern you." Vilkas tilted his head at the old man, his ears perking up.

Vilkas and Kodlak often sat outside his quarters at the giant table; it was where Vilkas sought counsel from Kodlak—it was where Kodlak had shown himself to be more of a father than Vilkas had ever known. Vilkas grunted at the old Harbinger, signaling him to tell the story.

"I saw light mixing with darkness—filth and purity. I saw you, bounding through the woods, with a Companion at your side I have never seen before. A woman. Death nearing both of you… The vision was stained red. There is some great danger ahead for you."

"Danger," Vilkas said with a sigh. "Well, I still hear the call of the blood. Perhaps…"

Kodlak interrupted to offer some hope. "We all do. It is our burden to bear, but we can overcome."

Vilkas' dark eyes flashed, and he shook his head. "You have my brother and I, obviously." He was fiercely loyal to Kodlak, and he would give up the blood as long as Kodlak ordered. "But I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily."

Kodlak smiled warmly, despite the heavy topic of conversation. "Leave that to me."

He stopped, and Vilkas knew why. They both caught the scent of a newcomer coming near. Looking down the hall, a small-framed woman, very young, with pale, red hair, wandered down the hallway. Kodlak and Vilkas caught each other's eyes for a moment.

"A stranger comes to our hall," Kodlak's voice bellowed warmly at her. Her light eyes glistened in the reddish light of the lower halls. Vilkas laughed inwardly. She looked short, scrawny and unable to hold a pickaxe, let alone a sword. Her skin was so white that she looked more suited to be a milkmaid than anything else.

"I would like to join the Companions," she said with confidence. Vilkas was surprised by the strength of her voice—she must have been intimidated beneath that tone she put on. There was an unreadable look in her eyes.

"Would you now? Here, let me have a look at you," Kodlak spoke pleasantly, standing up as he did so to circle the newcomer. Looking her up and down, he nodded. "Hm…yes. Perhaps. A certain strength of spirit. What is your name?"

"It's Sofja. I—" Before she could say another word, Vilkas cut in.

"Master, you're not truly considering accepting her?" Vilkas said brusquely. Sofja cast him a frustrated glance, but he didn't care. _If they let children into the ranks of the Companions, who would they allow next?_ Vilkas thought. _Dogs? Wolves are enough._

"I am nobody's master, Vilkas." Kodlak muttered with a disapproving tone. Vilkas rolled his eyes, but he didn't speak another word, as Kodlak continued. "And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts."

"Apologies," Vilkas mumbled. "But perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this outsider. Sofja, is it?"

Sofja crossed her arms, breathing deeply to stifle the anger rising in her throat. Maybe he hadn't heard of her, but the rest of Whiterun would when she kicked his teeth in. If he had only realized the things she was capable of, the things she had done as of late…

Kodlak sat down again, smiling brightly. "Sometimes the famous come to us, sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference. What matters is their heart."

Sofja warmed to the old man as readily as she bristled to the one named Vilkas. As long as she kept her head down and didn't cause any trouble, or get in anyone's way, she figured she could make a life here. As long as no one knew her secret.

"Vilkas, take her out back and test her arm."

Begrudgingly, Vilkas stood and motioned for Sofja to follow him. She swallowed hard and followed silently.

* * *

><p>Nearly a month later, Sofja leapt up the steps of Jorrvaskr, the home of the Companions, and the place she learned to call home. One of the best things about the Companions was the free bed they offered, and ever since she'd killed a dragon in the name of Whiterun, she'd pushed herself into her training so ferociously that her bed was her only solace. She had no friends among the Companions; people still spat in her direction and gave her sideways glances, always calling her 'whelp' or some such nonsense. But she needed to keep her head down.<p>

The young, lean woman with fiery hair, during her short time with the Companions, had done little that measured up to killing a dragon. A brawl here and there to intimidate an uncooperative associate and a kidnapping were nothing compared to learning that she was, in fact, something called Dragonborn. As a Nord, Sofja knew the term. What it truly meant, however, remained a mystery. The Dragonborn was a man of legend–a person who lived in fairy tales. She said the word over and over in her mind, but she still could not match it to her own body and spirit. As soon as she had discovered that well of power within herself just over a month ago, she decided to join the Companions, to learn to protect herself from any man or beast who would try to challenge her. But how could it even be true? Often, she wondered if it had all been some fantasy, or some sort of misunderstanding, and perhaps the Greybeards called to someone else from the skies that day…

Sofja shook her head trying to dispel the thoughts clouding her mind. She pushed through the heavy wooden doors of Jorrvaskr and made her way towards the stairwell that would lead her down to the private rooms, where she could finally think. If she were the Dragonborn, then surely she was worthy enough to be a member of the Companions. However, after coming a few short weeks ago, she had felt nothing but disapproval.

Despite how cutthroat the Companions seemed, Kodlak Whitemane, their Harbinger, insisted they would become her brothers and sisters. He was quick to offer her a spot among them, believing there to be some sort of fire in her heart. He seemed the only one who believed in Sofja—unlike Vilkas, the dark-looking man who always had a sad fire burning in his eyes. He took every chance he could to taunt, insult and correct her.

What was even more unsettling was that he, along with the other members of the Circle, walked around constantly on edge, as if they were hiding something. It made Sofja curious. The Circle of the Companions wasn't just an exclusive group for older members…something separated them from the rest. Made them different. And she couldn't stand not knowing.

She bounded down the steps towards the living quarters with all these thoughts clouding head, and clumsily ran smack into the chest of none other than Vilkas, sending them both tumbling down the stairs. A moment of shock passed as Vilkas and Sofja hit the bottom, lying motionless on the cold ground and tangled in each other's limbs. Sofja's tunic tangled over her arm, and she could feel the frosty stone forcing goose bumps on her back. At that moment, she would rather have tried to ride on the back of a dragon than accidentally push Vilkas down the stairs. Daring to open her eyes, she saw Vilkas' swearing mouth hovering directly above her, his arms on either side of her head. She opened her mouth to apologize, but it was of no use.

"I—" She began. He shoved a finger against her lips, resting his elbow on the pavement and bringing his face even closer to hers.

"Don't. Breathe. A word," He sneered, looking down at her chest. She was bare except for her undergarments, which not only made his eyes widen in shock and embarrassment, but also made Sofja laugh nervously in her throat. Seeing him squirm with discomfort pleased her.

"You think this is funny?" He said, a smirk forming on his mouth as he violently tugged the tunic down over her stomach. "Just remember what you are, whelp. Stay out of my way before I put you out of my way, permanently." His accented voice was cold, but he was still smirking.

Before she could retort, a cold, smooth voice echoed down the stairwell. Moving her head to the side to see past Vilkas, Sofja noticed the thin outline of Aela the Huntress, her arms crossed in front of her chest defensively as she stood on the top step.

"Honestly, Vilkas, you won't meet my cousin at the tavern for ale, but you'll throw yourself on any new pup that finds herself alone in a dark corner. Despicable," she teased. Her words were meant to make fun, but they bit like the jaws of a hungry wolf. Since Sofja had joined the Companions, she knew there was some rift between Aela and Vilkas. On one side there was Aela and Skjor. It was rumored they were lovers, although Sofja heard that was looked down upon within the Companions. Then again, the two of them didn't seem to care much for rules. On the other side, there was Vilkas and his twin brother Farkas. The rest of the Companions seemed to live their own lives. Vilkas' face turned crimson as he threw himself away from Sofja's body.

"I wouldn't share a dalliance or a drink with any member of your family," Vilkas spit back at her as soon as he was on his feet again. "And this one is nothing but trouble." He shot a look back down at Sofja. "Watch where you're going next time, will you? Or I'll have to take up arms just to defend myself against your clumsiness." With that, he bounded past her away from the living quarters. Before Sofja could get up, Aela drifted down the steps like smoke and grabbed her arm. Sofja sensed something was off; the gesture was kind, no doubt, but Aela was not kind. From what Sofja knew of her, Aela had proven herself to be a conniving, deadly young woman.

"Pay no attention to him," Aela offered. "He's the least fun of the group. By the way, Skjor was looking for you earlier." Aela's eyes flickered, and it gave Sofja pause. She noticed that Aela was still holding her arm, and tightly so, even though Sofja had made it to her feet moments ago. Sofja nodded curtly and pulled away, leaving Aela standing in the darkened hallway.

Sofja slammed down into her cot on her stomach, her face away from the door. Her eyes began to swim in visions of fire and smoke. She imagined herself again standing next to the Housecarl Irileth of Dragonsreach, shouting at each other as a man lay burned at their feet.

_"I told you, the arrows are the only way to kill it from a distance!" The dark elf bellowed. "If you had just used the equipment I offered, Rin would not have had to die. Selfish girl, you are useless!"_

_"You asked for my help, so take it! I'm the only one alive who has any experience with dragons!" Sofja bellowed back, angry tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Magic does just as well, and if you'd listened to me about how to place the men, the arrows could have—"_

_Their eyes ascended to the heavens at the sound of a shrill scream – it belonged to the dragon. They quickly scattered from each other as the dragon landed on the ground fifty feet away, shaking the earth. Sofja flew behind a boulder, quivering with anger. She knew Irileth was right, but this was no ordinary foe. For the sake of the gods, Sofja had never seen a dragon in her life besides Helgen, and heard little of them. How could she be expected to kill one?_

_Fit with anger, Sofja flew towards the creature, her sword extended and her hand burning with fiery magic. Before it could release its scorching breath on her, she catapulted herself upwards, barely managing to grab the dragon's neck. It flung its head back and forth in an attempt to dislodge her, a tiny pest, but Sofja would not give up. She dug her fingers into its scales and prayed to the Nine for protection. Without another moment's hesitation, Sofja slammed her blade into the dragon's skull, and she pushed on the hilt so hard that the blade emerged through the other end of the creature's jaw. The dragon cried out, the life leaving its body, and Sofja clung to the dead creature as it slumped to the ground. As Sofja fell, a golden warmth surrounded her, filling her ears as if she were being pushed under water to drown—_

A very loud knock at the door sent Sofja flying out of bed and into a fighting stance. When the dream cleared from her eyes, she saw a confused Vilkas standing in the doorway holding something. She had been dreaming. Her heart was beating so quickly she could feel it shaking her limbs. Lowering them, she could do nothing but offer a sheepish smile.

"If you want to fight me so badly, say so and we can move to the yard to have a proper duel, pup," Vilkas sneered, crossing his arms in front of him. Despite the way he held himself, she could sense some warmth in his voice.

A silent beat passed as they stared at each other.

"I-I'm sorry. I was dreaming."

Vilkas seemed lost for a moment, but before Sofja could remind him of his purpose, he jolted into formality again. "Is this yours? I'm afraid you may have lost it when you tried tackling me down the stairs. Unfortunately, it's damaged, but it's nothing Eorlund can't fix." Sofja approached Vilkas' outstretched hand to see a small, flat piece of metal hanging from a broken, silver chain. Her hand immediately flew to her throat, grasping for her mother's necklace.

"Yes, that's mine," she said in a defeated voice. She reached out to grab it, but Vilkas quickly pulled his hand away, holding it over her head. Sofja shot him a look of impatient confusion.

"I will take this myself to Eorlund. He may be the best blacksmith in all of Skyrim, but that doesn't mean he can't fix jewelry, too. Even though this was your fault, I feel as though I should right it," he said. Sofja folded her arms in front of her.

"It's really unnecessary," she said in a low voice. "I—"

"Why does it say 'dovah naal zin' on this?' He asked quickly, taking a step towards her. "What does that mean? Is it dragonspeak?"

She shook her head. Sofja had said the words over and over to herself since she had received the necklace at age thirteen, but she never knew, and neither did her father, a lover of dragon lore. For some reason, this past month, the words began sounding more familiar each day.

"I don't know the language, it sounds like something the Greybeards might speak..." She paused. Wasn't it? It was on the tip of her tongue. "That has been passed down through my family for centuries, though, so please handle it with care." Sofja put her hands on her hips and shot him a dirty look before he bowed his head and left. Sofja turned back to her bed before she heard a knock at the door again.

"What do you want now, Vilkas?" She said. When she turned, she saw the hard line of Skjor's mouth instead.

"You still need to prove yourself, whelp."


	2. Chapter 2: The Reveal

**Chapter II**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hello again, all! I've already gotten some great feedback and truly appreciate it, so keep it up! It means so much to me. As I mentioned, this is an old story that sat on my computer for years now... Since it's already written, all I really have to do is revise and post, so keep an eye out for the next chapters coming out fairly quickly. -Sass<strong>_

* * *

><p>Sofja slid against the dirty walls of Dustman's Cairn, with Farkas slow at her back. A light was up ahead, and she could hear the shuffling of footsteps. Looking back, she caught Farkas' smiling eyes. This was her task, and she was in control. Skjor had come to her with information that a piece of Wuuthrad, the sacred axe of Ysgramor, had been located, and it was her task to retrieve it to become a true member of the Companions. Out of the shadows, four Draugr appeared, offering little competition. Nothing could scare Sofja more than fighting a dragon, so a few undead creatures were little trouble, a mere distraction. A fifth emerged from behind a corner with a long, blue sword. As she lifted her blade, its voice halted her.<p>

"_Dovahkiin_," it spoke, its voice deep and gravelly. "_Aan grohiik? Daar los nivahriin. Him fen aus bah. Krosis._"

Sofja panicked.

She understood what the creature said.

The words were foreign-sounding, but somehow she understood their meaning. What in the name of the Nine did that mean, was there a wolf in the caverns nearby? Was this part of the Dragonborn gift? In that split second, Sofja's eyes widened and she lost her breath. Before she could take the time to understand, she brought her blade forcefully down on the creature's neck, slicing clean through. A scream escaped her throat. It seemed as though the floor had fallen away from her. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"You okay?" Farkas asked simply. "What'd that thing say to you?"

"I… I don't know," she lied quickly. "Let's keep moving."

Turning around a corner, Sofja led as Farkas followed steadily behind. Farkas was a kind soul in a hardened body; she wasn't worried about proving her honor to him. She and Farkas had a sort of understanding—she accepted his slowness, and in exchange, Farkas accepted the fact that Sofja would never be the perfect Companion. Ahead, there was a small alcove with a few chests. Taking a quick glance back at Farkas, Sofja realized he was hardly paying attention, too busy taking in his surroundings. She moved forward quickly to the alcove. Sofja was thankful for that, because if Vilkas had acted as her shield brother, she imagined things would be much different. He would be critical of every move she made.

Sofja lifted the top of one of the chests, repeating the words of the draugr back to herself… _aan grohiik_. A wolf. _Daar los nivahriin_. This is cowardly… _Him fen aus bah_. He will suffer greatly. _Krosis_. Pity. It still made no sense. Sofja squeezed her eyes shut as she picked up a golden circlet. She needed to think about something else. Looking back at Farkas as he wandered slowly around the cavern, for some reason, his brother popped into her mind again.

What was it about Vilkas that made her hands sweat? Sofja shook her head as she approached a rusty lever in the alcove. The more Aela paid attention to her, and the more hostility she sensed from Vilkas, the more she felt as though she was on the wrong side of some conflict she knew nothing about. She wanted to be on the right side. Aela made her...uneasy. But she was always kind enough, if not a little condescending.

Curiosity tingled in Sofja's fingertips and she grabbed the lever. With a grunt, it gave way. Suddenly, the sound of grinding metal exploded behind her, and a huge gate fell from the ceiling, closing her in. Sofja tugged at the lever to open the gate again, but it wouldn't budge. From behind, she heard a chuckle.

"Don't worry, I'll get you out. I'm sure the release is around here somewhere," Farkas said, a smile in his voice. Sofja smiled with embarrassment, walking up to the gate.

"Hurry. I don't want Vilkas to tease me for eternity because I locked myself behind some thousand-year-old gate." Before Farkas could move, the sounds of shouts and footsteps echoed in the surrounding hallways. Six or seven men and women wearing armor and brandishing weapons appeared, and the blood drained from Sofja's face. Farkas was going to die, and she would have to watch. And then, when they pried the gate open, she would die, too. No glory. No chance to save her friend—one of the few she had.

"Which one are you?" A gruff-looking man asked, licking his lips.

"It doesn't matter!" A woman with a shrill voice cried. "If he wears that armor, he dies."

"You're gonna regret this…" Farkas said calmly. And with that, something happened. Sofja blinked a few times to make sure that what happened wasn't real. She could hear the popping of limbs and the cracking of bones. But no one dared attack Farkas yet, so how could his body fail him already? His armor, piece by piece, began hitting the ground. Before her eyes, Farkas was growing in height…inches…feet. His skin was…fur? Sofja didn't know when, but the…thing…in front of her suddenly was not Farkas. It was…a wolf, standing nearly ten feet tall on its hind legs. Lifting its snout into the air, it shrieked a violent cry and began to massacre the men and women before it. It slammed one woman into a wall, sending blood spattering in patterns on the stone behind her. Farkas—or the wolf—caught another man by the throat and ripped in open. One by one, he tore them apart. Then suddenly he ran to the left into a corridor.

"Farkas?" Sofja called out, with less confidence in her voice than she thought was necessary. The gate before her quickly lifted, and she was left with a pile of bodies in front of her, each ripped to shreds in its own unique way.

"Sofja…" Farkas' gruff voice carried in from the left corridor. "I have something I need to explain… And can you bring my armor to me? I'm…naked."

* * *

><p>A celebration awaited Farkas and Sofja when they returned to Jorrvaskr. Vilkas waited patiently outside the door. At sundown, Farkas arrived home without Sofja. A pang of anxiousness echoed in Vilkas' chest. He knew all along she wasn't Companion material; he could tell by the way she walked, by the way she could hardly look him in the eye. Vilkas was sure that she was not a hero by the Companion's standards. Looking at Farkas' eyes, though, Vilkas knew immediately something was more wrong than Sofja simply abandoning the task.<p>

"Where is she?" He asked urgently. Blinking quickly, he posed a second question in an attempt to hide the sound of worry present in the first. "Did she run off scared?"

"She knows the truth." Farkas said plainly. "I changed. I was cornered and she was trapped. I am sorry, brother."

"Where has she gone? She can't just run away and sell our secret to the highest bidder!" A heat was rising in his chest. Vilkas cut off his voice with a deep breath—he did not want to make the change in the middle of the town, especially when he had refused the change for so long. The wolf within him was fiery and angry and ready to leap out at the first sign of weakness. But he couldn't allow that.

Vilkas had given up the transformations alongside his brother and Kodlak. Kodlak hired a mage to look into the true source of the beastly transformations; what he found was not comforting. The change they had worshipped for so long as a gift was actually a curse upon the Companions created by the daedric prince Hircine. In an attempt to ask for mercy of the Nine, they gave up their beastly transformations completely. Farkas seemed nearly the same. Kodlak, though sometimes strained, always maintained his composure. Vilkas, however, could hardly trust himself. When an emotion arose in him, whether it was anger, lust or happiness, the beast fought for control. A few times, it nearly won. He could barely live his human life, always fearing that the wolf would emerge. An eternity in any place other than Sovngarde was unthinkable. And now their disgusting secret was out in the open, with some tiny, pale girl, who could do anything with the information she'd been given.

"Sofja is our sister. She said she would be here, brother. She was successful and honorable on our journey, and she will continue to prove her honor tonight. Have faith." Farkas pleaded with some emotion. Vilkas scoffed at his suggestion.

"Faith? Faith, brother? Farkas, sometimes I—" Before he could finish, he was interrupted by her. It was not the sight of her—not yet. He smelled her first. Lilac. He wrinkled his nose at the sweetness of it. How did she do that? It was too natural to be some sort of perfume. Turning towards the steps, he saw the top of her fiery head moving up the steps of Jorrvaskr, her complexion warm in the midst of the setting sun. She came back.

"I'm sorry if I'm late," Sofja said, trying to smile. Vilkas took in the sight of her. She was wearing civilian clothes; a tunic with tight leggings and brown leather boots. Her hair fell loose down her back, and for a second, he couldn't think of anything he might say to her. He stared at the ends of her curly, red hair. She was trying to seem merry, but there was something in her icy stare that betrayed uneasiness.

"You _are_ late, new blood." His eyes shot daggers at her. "We have a celebration planned in your honor. But first, a ceremony to initiate you fully into…our ranks."

And with that, it was settled. Sofja was not only a true Companion now, but the youngest member of the Circle. She had to be, in order to keep the secret of the beast blood. It was that, or death. Kodlak had not mentioned if there she would have a choice in taking the beast blood, but the time would come to sort it all out. Right now, she could hardly believe what she had seen earlier that day.

There was a small feast in her honor, with an endless supply of mead to be enjoyed by all. Vilkas sat in one corner, eyeing Sofja for most of the night, and hoping she didn't notice. She danced with Farkas and drank her fair share, but something was holding her back, as he had seen when she first arrived. Every time she thought no one saw, an anxiety would wash over her face that could not easily be hidden. It was the knowledge of Hircine's curse; it had to be taking its toll. She was scared, and he couldn't let her run. But there were other reasons he didn't want her to run, reasons he was only just admitting to himself.

As the music and the fire died down, Vilkas saw her slip away like a ghost to the living quarters. His left hand gripped his mug tightly. It was his fifth, and it was making his head buzz. The wolf within was resting easy. His right hand sank deep into his pocket and traced over the foreign words on her necklace. Vilkas had it repaired by Eorlund almost as soon as he had found it, but he was waiting for the right time to give it back to her. At that thought, he argued with himself. _Don't get tangled up in something stupid, Vilkas. Don't fall prey to some woman. She's not even worth the name "Companion." That's who you lust after? The runt of the pack? _He shook his head at himself. _But she is worth the name. There's something special about her, despite her flaws._ Standing up, he took a final swig of mead and slammed the flagon on the table. Vilkas would bring the necklace to her now…and he would linger as long as he could allow himself without feeling foolish. He needed to talk to her about what had happened at Dustman's Cairn.

* * *

><p>Sofja undressed quickly, undergarments and all, and threw on her mother's old tunic, which was ragged and oversized. Sofja's mother, above all things, was no seamstress. She received everything from her parents—her belongings, her will to live and her Nord blood. Sofja was their only child, and although her father wouldn't admit it, she always wondered if her parents had prayed to the Nine Divines in vain for a boy. If she had been a boy, maybe things would have been different. She quickly pushed the thought away.<p>

Sofja sat down on her cot and pulled her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knee. Her reddish hair fell in ripples around her arms, almost nearing her waist. She felt dirty—dirty with the blood of those she watched die by Farkas' hand. She couldn't blame him, but…it was unlike anything she'd ever seen before.

He had explained it all to her. He explained how the Circle of the Companions shared the blood of the wolf. He told of the transformation, which did not lessen in pain each time it occurred. Farkas explained how he and his brother lived at Jorrvaskr since they were small, as they were abandoned by their father. He told of their fate after death: those who bore the blood of the wolf would enter the eternal hunting grounds of the daedric prince Hircine. No wolf could pass into Sovngarde. Sofja shuddered at the thought of it. All this, and she was the Dovahkiin as well? Could it be true? She cringed, her mind foggy as a result of these thoughts and all the mead she drank. The room was beginning to suffocate her. A knock at the door jolted her out of her panic.

"Yes?!" she yelped, wondering who it could be at the hour it was. She assumed everyone had fallen down in their beds as a result of some mead-induced stupor. The door pushed open and Vilkas tilted his head in.

"May I come in, lass?" He asked, his voice sounding less powerful than she remembered. Maybe the mead had reached his head, too. Sofja's core burned with curiosity as to why Vilkas decided to come by at this late hour, and the warmth extended to her limbs.

"Of course. What, not calling me 'whelp' anymore, Vilkas?" He looked bewildered at the question, as if he wasn't used to seeing her show any sort of personality. Sofja wasn't sure what made her say that, and the boldness of it surprised her. She swallowed hard, wondering how he would respond.

"Well… you're one of us now." Vilkas smiled weakly and crossed the room towards her. Suddenly he stopped, and his lips turned into a grave line. His eyes traced down the curves of her body underneath the tunic she was wearing. Sofja's eyes widened. She was probably dressed a little scantily for visitors...she wasn't used to people seeing her in her night clothes. Getting up quickly, she grabbed the sheep's wool blanket from the chair near her bed and wrapped it around herself. Vilkas was staring at her so intently that she had to stifle a nervous giggle. For some reason, she was enjoying his gaze. Had all his nasty teasing had the opposite effect on her?

"Vilkas, do I have your attention?" she teased, turning to face him.

"I…" He began, unsuccessfully. Her skin was so white, and her lips… He shook his head for a moment. _Gods be damned, no more mead! _He thought.

"What is it?" She asked. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out her necklace.

"I wanted to return this. I had it fixed, as promised." Vilkas frowned with frustration, holding the meager chain in his hand. Instead of grabbing the necklace from him, Sofja smiled with appreciation and turned her back towards him. Slowly, she lifted the long, red strands away from her neck and motioned for him to place the necklace around her. Vilkas felt totally unsettled.

"Will you do the honors?" Sofja asked quietly. Vilkas swallowed hard, the delicate chain hanging expectantly in his rough hands. He was never good with delicate things—he had a knack for breaking them.

"Um…fine," he mumbled, approaching her. He slid his arms around her neck, pulling the necklace up until it was in the proper place. Vilkas could feel the heat emanating from her, and could hear her quick breaths. He could feel everything; this was one of the benefits of the wolf blood. A benefit or a curse.

Vilkas struggled to clasp the chain around her neck. After a few moments, she chuckled, offending him slightly.

"Don't think I'm too dense to know when I'm being teased!" He snapped, finally clasping the necklace together. "They say Farkas has Ysgramor's strength, and I his smarts, but I'm no woman and have no knowledge of womanly things." Sofja turned to face him, smiling softly. Vilkas looked down at the small slab of metal that held those foreign words. He wanted to hit the smug smile off of her face.

Cautiously, he reached down to her chest and grabbed the metal square that held those three mysterious words. He rubbed the cool metal between his fingers. Vilkas' darkening eyes glanced back up at Sofja's. He wondered why Sofja came to the Companions. She was untouched by the wolf blood and its curse, and it made him feel like a diseased skeever in contrast to a High Queen. No matter what she saw, she would never truly understand the beast blood. And that was a blessing, at the very least.

"Do you still not understand the meaning of this?" He said, eyeing the necklace between his fingers—and the skin beneath that. "Farkas said one of those draugrs tried to have a chat with you." The light suddenly faded out of her eyes.

"It means 'dragon by honor.' I don't know what that means or why," she said in a whispery voice, pulling away from him and sitting back down on her cot. "I know what that draugr said, too." She shouldn't have told him. Her dovahkiin power was her darkest secret, and sharing this bit of information could put her in danger. But she couldn't help herself. Sofja couldn't stand the thought of being alone in her fear anymore.

Vilkas was intrigued, and decided to take a chance in following her. He sat down on the cot next to her, careful to keep a safe distance between them. Vilkas could feel the heat radiating from her. He shook his head a little, convincing himself it was the drink that was reaching into his core, making his body tingle.

"But I thought you said—" he began, confused.

"I don't know how I understood it," she said, answering his question before he could finish. "But I did. The creature told me that I was a coward for bringing a wolf with me to fight. I didn't even know then…about…the secret. How could it have known?"

Vilkas tried to smile, attempting to comfort her. "They're ancient creatures, they have their ways. Are you sure you've never heard these words before? Perhaps in passing, in your youth sometime? There must be a reason. It's not as if you're the Dragonborn, after all," he joked. Yet as he turned back towards Sofja, he noticed that she had suddenly become very pale. He knew he shouldn't make jokes. He was never very good at them, which was especially obvious based on her reaction.

"Sofja?" Vilkas began, attempting to apologize but not knowing how. What had he said to offend? He felt Sofja's cold fingers enclose around his own. "Sofja, I just meant-"

"Vilkas… I am." She took a moment, gulped a breath, and continued. She couldn't bear to keep it tucked away any longer. She learned the Companion's secret. Perhaps they could accept hers. Vilkas, for all his teasing, was a good man, and she couldn't stop the words from tumbling out to him. "I am… the Dragonborn." Sofja whispered.

"You are… Dovahkiin?" He stared at her for a moment or two, trying to process the words. She nodded. Suddenly, he began laughing heartily. "What in the name of Ysmir are you talking about? Sure, you're Dovahkiin. You don't sound crazy in the slightest. I bet you're the Sybil of Dibella, too."

Sofja looked away from him, an expected disappointment settling over her. By the look on her face, it suddenly occurred to him: it was real. At least, she believed it to be real.

He took the moment to squeeze her hand back. "Sofja…" He whispered. "But… What? How could this… How do you know?"

She began to tell her story. "Before I came here, I went to Whiterun to tell the Jarl of the dragon attack at Helgen. I was… a prisoner at the block when the dragon came. That," she said, her eyes flaring as she noticed him open his mouth to interrupt, "is another story entirely. But I escaped and came to Whiterun. Here, another dragon attacked, and since I had survived such an encounter already, they asked me to lend my services. I had nothing else to lose."

Vilkas hung on her every word. Who would lie about such a thing? And she was on the block…as the dragon attacked, just as Kodlak had seen in his dreams? How could it be so?

Sofja continued. "So, I lend my sword. With all the strength I had, I managed to kill it. But something happened to me that night. It was as if the dragon's life force, its energy…its knowledge… were stored in me. I could hear its thoughts, see its memories... It was overwhelming. Since then, this language has become familiar to me, piece by piece, until the other day, it suddenly clicked… I ran to the Companions to learn to fight, and to hide out. I'm not ready for the world to know my secret."

"You do realize how ridiculous this sounds, don't you?" Vilkas pulled his hand away from hers and ran it through his hair. "I mean… Dovahkiin? You could've said that when you first came to join us, I would've given you no trouble… Can you explain why the dragons have returned? Does it have something to do with you?"

Sofja sighed in frustration. She felt as if the world was weighing on her shoulders, she finally confided in another soul who she thought she might trust, and the last thing she needed was to be treated like Pelagius III. She was as confused as he was, if not more. His frantic questions made her wonder if she had made a mistake.

"Vilkas!" Sofja growled, smacking him on the shoulder. "I don't know anything about the dragons, but something happened to me the day I killed that one. The Greybeards called to me."

"Fine, fine! I believe you. But…show me. Show me a shout," Vilkas asked. Standing up, he walked across the room and turned around to face her. Straightening his tunic and running his hands through his hair, he took a breath. "Shout."

Sofja's eyes widened at his request. "Are you insane? I've only shouted once or twice, and by accident. It's too dangerous. You know what, Vilkas? This was a mistake," she sighed. "Just go." Heading towards the door, she planned on pushing him out, but Vilkas grabbed her shoulders. She stared up at his eyes, surprised by the physical contact.

His fingers squeezed into her arms, jolting her. As soon as he put his hands on her, Vilkas' head swam with excitement. Sofja was so close to him, he could see the speckles in her irises. The small birth mark just below her left eye. Vilkas wasn't going to stop himself.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to—" Sofja began. Before she could finish, Vilkas closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her own. Sofja's eyes widened as she felt her mouth part in anticipation of him. She couldn't control herself. Her eyes started falling shut as she felt the wetness of his tongue against her teeth. Opening her mouth slightly, their tongues touched and her body went limp. His hands released her shoulders and slid down to her hips, beckoning her closer. Sofja lifted her hands to his neck in wordless reply, pulling him down nearer to her with a sense of desperate need that she could hardly understand. Her body was defying the confused thoughts screaming in her mind. In a last ditch effort to escape, Sofja opened her eyes and pulled away from the kiss, the musky taste of him still on her tongue as she pictured what it would look like to see his mouth on hers from a distance.

They stood before each other, panting like animals. Before Vilkas could explain himself, Sofja slammed her open palm across his cheek. The sound echoed through the room and forced him to take a few steps back. They stared at each other in shock, for more than one reason. Vilkas clutched his cheek and his eyes bore into her.

"Are you drunk?! What in Oblivion did you do that for?!" She questioned, gaping at him as he stood silent, clutching his cheek. The kiss threw her off, and the way it made her feel was confusing... And Vilkas didn't seem to be taking it well. Sofja noticed suddenly a change in his demeanor. He was breathing heavily; his skin turned splotchy red and his eyes began glazing over.

"Vilkas?" She whispered. Was he that offended? Vilkas put his head into his hands and began shaking.

"Get…away…from me." He whispered in a strained voice. Sofja was confused.

"Listen," she began quietly, taking a few steps towards him, "I'm sorry I slapped you, you just really surprised me, but you don't have to…"

Vilkas shook harder, and as Sofja reached out to him, he looked up at her, a strange, growling sound escaping his mouth. His eyes seemed yellow. Sofja realized what was happening—Vilkas was losing control of his human form. Was it because she hit him?

"Vilkas…?"

Suddenly he leapt at her, and she panicked. "_FUS!_" She shouted quickly. The word, sounding like a cannon's boom, was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Vilkas flew against the wall with the force of her voice. It all happened so fast that Sofja yelped upon hearing the thud of his body against the wood. She didn't realize how powerful her voice was. And soon everyone who wasn't passed out from the mead would come running to check out the commotion, and then her secret would be known, and she'd have to leave... Her mind was racing with terror.

Running towards him, she fell to her knees and cupped his face in her hands. The transformation seemed to be stopping, but she didn't know what to do now.

"Vilkas, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to..." After a few moments, Sofja noticed that his eyes weren't opening—he was out cold. Sofja sighed in disbelief. Grabbing him by his arms, she dragged him towards the bed. It was going to be a long night.


	3. Chapter 3: The Descent

**Chapter III**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hey peeps! It's been a hectic couple of days, but I have time this weekend to keep getting the chapters uploaded, so keep an eye out! The next few sections are VERY interesting... It's all downhill from here. Stay tuned! And as always, thanks for the feedback! -Sass<strong>_

* * *

><p>Vilkas sat up with a start. For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was; the room was pitch black. Holding his breath, he still could hear the sound of breathing apart from his own. He looked down to realize he was sitting on a bed, but the memory of how he arrived there was missing. It was all so familiar, but it was not his room, to be sure. The soft smell of lilac filled his nostrils. Glancing to his side, he saw Sofja sleeping. She was on her side, her arm hanging off the edge of the cot and her hair a mess framing her face. She stirred quietly. And suddenly, the pounding in his head returned, as did the memories.<p>

She must have dragged him to bed… He remembered hitting the wall, and then nothing. Lifting his fingers to the back of his head, he winced at the bump that had formed there. Vilkas' anger swelled slightly before wonderment replaced it. She had shouted at him! It was true! He was dumbfounded… Sofja was the Dragonborn, and she had kept it hidden all this time. Except now… Was he the only one who knew? Squeezing his eyes shut, he silently scolded himself. _How could you have been foolish enough to ask her to practice a shout on you?_

Glancing out the window, he saw no light—based on the timing of the festivities from the night before, he had to imagine that the first light of day would appear soon. He took one final glance over Sofja before deciding it was time to go. He had acted a fool the night before; questioning her, giving in to his lust for her, nearly turning on her… Vilkas stood up quietly and winced at the sound of the floorboards beneath him groaning. Looking behind, he could just make out the outline of Sofja as she sat up and rubbed her eyes like a child would. He'd woken her. _Great_, he thought. _The last thing I want to do is discuss what happened._

Sofja opened her mouth to speak, but then stopped, thinking better of it. Vilkas turned back to face her, a harsh look on his face in the darkness. He knelt down next to her bedside where she was.

"I'm an idiot," he said quietly. In the darkness, Vilkas could make out the hint of a smile on Sofja's tired face. "So I suppose you truly are the Dragonborn…" He rubbed the back of his head, where he'd impacted the wall so furiously.

"Well, you did ask for proof… And you started coming after me," she whispered, her voice heavy with sleep. "A few people who were sober enough to hear the commotion came running. I told them you had…an accident." They stared at each other for a few moments, thinking. "Why did you start turning, Vilkas? … Because I slapped you? Because I made you angry? How do you do battle if every time a girl hits you in the face, you transform? You didn't seem in control." She paused a moment. There was fear behind her voice.

When Farkas had given into the wolf in Dustman's Cairn, she was safe behind the gate she'd accidentally locked. Farkas was only defending himself and her. But Vilkas… He had been so close to going after her. He suddenly felt intense shame, like the jabbing of a knife in an old wound.

Vilkas stood up, clearing his throat. He looked away from her; he didn't know how to tell her the reason he really lost control. He didn't know how to say that their kiss sent him over the edge. Had she really hated it so much? So much that she felt the need to slap him? Vilkas' eyes softened, but he made no move to answer her questions. The tension of their silence hung in the air.

"Your eyes are normal again," Sofja said softly, hugging her arms to herself. She stared down at the wooden panels of the floor. "Your eyes gave it away…that's how I knew something was wrong. That's how it starts, doesn't it."

"Did I scare you?" Vilkas asked gently. Looking up at him, she shook her head.

"I've seen worse," Sofja admitted. She fought a dragon; that much was true.

"So what did you do," he questioned, walking towards the door and leaning his arm against the wall. He turned his back to her. "Knock me out so you could take advantage of me?" Vilkas chuckled. He heard her bare feet hit the ground as she stood up.

Sofja remained silent. How could he joke? As the sleep cleared from her mind, she thought about the odd chain of events which had occurred only hours earlier. She didn't know how to respond. "Vilkas… You can't tell anyone what you know about me."

"You need not fear. You have my loyalty, Dovahkiin." Vilkas said softly, still looking away from her.

"Thank you," she whispered. "But Vilkas… Please answer me. You were so close to changing... Why?" Sofja asked, her voice shaking slightly. He whirled around, furrowing his brow. It was too shameful to think that he had instilled such fear in her. How could Sofja ever trust him as a fellow Companion if she expected claws in her back at every moment? His anger flared.

"Why do you care, are you planning to take the change? What does it matter?" He fired back, dodging the question. "I don't know how much Farkas told you, Sofja, but I imagine you saw enough to realize that it's no desirable life. It's a curse, and it's very difficult to control. I'm a hopeless man who will never know the gates of Sovngarde. Some consider the eternal hunt a blessing, but they would be mistaken." His anger was rising, and he took a deep breath to push it away again.

Vilkas needed to learn to keep control of his emotions. This was something else that frustrated him about the wolf within… Any strong feeling—lust, anger, love—belonged to the wolf. Any powerful emotion was an invitation to the violent creature inside, calling him forth. He was letting Sofja get too close, and it could not end well for either of them. He couldn't risk getting any closer to her than he already had.

"Promise me you won't give in, no matter what Aela or Skjor offer you. I gave up the transformations because in my heart I am a man and a Nord. I am no beast, and neither are you," he said in a serious tone. "I have forsaken the transformations, but each day I am pushed a little closer to the precipice of surrender. Unless a cure is found, I will have to live this way until my honorless death." He looked away, his voice falling just above a whisper. "I want that for no other soul."

Walking towards him, Sofja put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned his face towards her.

"I promise, Vilkas," she whispered. "I only want to understand. You have to realize… Everything I've known the past couple weeks was a lie. I don't want more lies, not now, when I've just been given a piece of the truth." Vilkas stared into her eyes for just a moment too long. _No,_ he thought, _not again. _

"In due time, you will understand it all. That I swear to you. Now, promise me something else," He whispered back, his eyes gleaming as he stared at her lips. She nodded quickly. Her mouth was right there, waiting. He could see her body quake.

"V-Vilkas…" she hesitated.

Both of them stood in the heat of the moment, trying to ignore the electricity in the air between them; it was nearly unbearable. Vilkas caught himself inches from her mouth once again.

"I am sorry for my actions tonight. Promise me you will keep your distance from me, Farkas, Aela and the rest of the Circle," he said sternly. "We are not to be trusted as long as we have Hircine's curse in our veins. Surely you've seen enough to realize you must be constantly on your guard. I should never have put you in such a position of danger."

Confusion boiled in Sofja's chest. "Vilkas, I _am_ a member of the Circle now. Like it or not, I can't just avoid it. Besides, I work closely with Farkas, and sometimes Aela. I can take care of myself. You can't expect me to just—"

The smell of her skin was becoming too much for Vilkas. With his warning given, he opened her door, walked out, and shut it behind him, cutting her off mid-sentence. He didn't care if she would be offended. The less she liked the Circle, the more she'd stay away. It was better for all involved.

Sofja stood like a statue. She couldn't comprehend what just happened. Was he trying to make a statement by just walking out like that? _Stupid oaf. _This wasn't over yet. Sofja turned and grabbed her leggings, quickly pulled them on and then ran for the door.

Throwing it open, she walked into the darkness of the hallway and called out.

"Vilkas?" She said sternly. There was no reply. A giggle echoed from behind her, and Sofja turned around, her heart in her throat.

"He's done it to you too, has he?" It was Aela's voice.

"What are you doing, standing there in the shadows?" Sofja snapped. "Why are you awake at this hour?"

"I could ask the same of you. What was that snake doing in your room?" Aela said, sauntering forward. "I'm sorry I didn't warn you ahead of time, but I thought you would heed the small warning I gave that day you gloriously tackled him down the stairs. Vilkas is lust-hungry, it was no joke." Aela insisted. Sofja listened to the odd tone in her voice, as if she were excited. "He does it to all the fresh meat that comes through the Companions. He convinces you he's a tortured soul," Aela explained, leaning against the wall as she crossed her arms. "He tells you of his troubles. He does favors for you, and flirts. Convinces you that the beast blood is a curse. Vilkas wants control—and he won't stop until you end up in his bed. He wants you small and vulnerable and without the blood; it's what he likes. He's a weak man who desires weak women. He'll devour you…though not literally, of course."

Sofja shook her head in confusion. Yes, he had done some of that, but it wasn't for any ulterior motive. And how did the beast blood fit into all this? "But Farkas, and Kodlak—" Sofja began, knowing that they, too, condemned the beast blood.

"It is a lie!" Aela interrupted. "The beast blood was bestowed upon us by our forefathers. It is the most sacred of gifts, and all who hold the knowledge receive the privilege." Then Sofja understood. Aela was trying to convince her to accept the beast blood, now that she would be a part of the Circle, and in Aela's mind, the easiest way to achieve this seemed to be to use Vilkas against her. The feeling in the pit of her stomach warned her not to trust Aela. Sofja took a step back, and Aela compensated by moving forward.

"Vilkas' actions tonight have nothing to do with the blood, and I think we both know that. Anyway, I prefer Sovngarde to the hunting grounds of daedra," Sofja said coolly.

"You childish girl," Aela spat at her, standing up straighter. "Either you become a wolf, or you die. You cannot have the knowledge of the Circle unless you share in the blood." A sick smile spread across her face as she opened her arms to Sofja. "We wolves share the power we harbor with one another. Tied by the beast blood, our strength and intelligence grow together. You cannot expect me to ignore the opportunity of the Dovahkiin sharing and contributing to that power and knowledge, even if the others are too weak to see the gift they have so selfishly forsaken. It would be an irreplaceable opportunity…"

Sofja gasped. "How do you know that?"

"My dear," Aela said, reaching for the dagger that sat at her hip, "you don't think these walls have ears? Make your choice. The blood or death."

* * *

><p>Sofja didn't stop running until the woods around her seemed completely unfamiliar. Her chest heaved so hard with breath that her lungs were beginning to sting. Suddenly, a cry of pain broke out in the distance. Sofja's eyes widened, her reddish hair whipping into them as the wind carried the animal-like screech towards her. She was frozen. The trees before her sounded as if they were slowly pulling away from each other, creaking violently in a path that would lead straight towards her. Sofja closed her eyes and listened to the sound of snapping branches, rustling leaves and heavy breath. Something was coming after her. Turning on her heels, Sofja began sprinting into the darkness of the trees, which seemed to grow thicker each moment. On the outskirts of Whiterun, the land was barren, making her panic for a place to hide. She had made it further, but in the darkness of this unfamiliar forest, she felt a new panic that came with uncertainty.<p>

Tears stung Sofja's cheeks. Whatever was behind her was coming closer. Sneaking a glance behind, she saw a dark figure approaching more quickly than she could successfully escape. A root caught her foot and she slammed into the hard, cold ground. She considered getting up and continuing the chase, but she'd already lost. Each moment, the creature was closing in, and she was in no shape to continue. So, heaving for breath, Sofja waited. She could pray to the Nine that she would be able to control her shout well enough to at least hurt the creature, or she would have to try reasoning with it.

_I am the Dovahkiin, and this is how things go? So cowardly, that instead of killing Aela or betraying Vilkas and taking the blood, I choose to flee?_

Her hands smashed the forest floor, leaving them red and aching. A rock hit with force into her shin, and reaching down quickly, she could feel the warmth of blood trickling from the wound. She wasn't even wearing shoes. The night was cold, and all she had was her mother's shirt and her leggings. The creature slowed down to a dead stop before emerging into the rays of moonlight that cast down through the thick trees. Sofja gasped, leaning back onto her arms. The sight of the creature slowed her mind so quickly that she could not consider running away.

A massive, powerful-looking wolf creature stepped towards her. It must have been ten feet tall, with gleaming fangs and grayish-brown fur. It stood on its hind legs like a man, and in its claws, it grasped a sack. The sack was not large enough for a human—unless that human were in pieces. Sofja decided she would not be put in that sack, dead or alive. She tried to focus on her voice, on her shout…

She could hardly believe that Aela would resort to this. Wouldn't the Companions know what happened? At least Aela would be punished… Unless they condoned Aela killing her. They had struggled back at Jorrvaskr, and before any blood could be spilled, Sofja used her voice on Aela and left the place all together, heading into the woods for shelter. Sofja was brave, but she was not a true killer and did not revel in bloodshed. Calling out to Aela was her last resort before she tried her voice or was ripped to shreds, and so she tried.

"Stop!" She bellowed, sitting up. "There must be a better way!" The creature, as if snapped out of some distraction, stared at her. It had been watching her the whole time, but it was now as if it was seeing her. Glancing up at the sky, the werewolf let out a mournful howl before falling to its knees. Sofja narrowed her eyes at the beast, wondering if this would be her chance to escape, but before she moved, she heard the same painful scream from earlier. It was the wolf. With the cry came the sound of snapping bones and popping limbs. The werewolf was shrinking—or changing? Sofja looked on in horror until the coarse fur disappeared to reveal stark white skin. After a few moments, the only thing left of the creature was a pile of flesh and muscle and bone, heaving violently for air, as if it had been suffocated. Summoning all her courage, Sofja crawled on her hands and knees towards what had been moments before a werewolf. Somehow, she felt sad for the thing. Upon a closer glance, she noticed what her subconscious must have. It was Vilkas.


	4. Chapter 4: The Temptation

**Chapter IV**

* * *

><p><strong><em>It's me again! Hope you enjoy the fourth chapter. I'm already working on my next fanfiction, although there are still a few more chapters to go for Vilkas and Sofja, too. :-) The next one has to do with the Thieves Guild.<em>**

**_Do you think Sofja will end up taking the cursed blood of Hircine? Keep an eye out for the next chapter, you never know what'll happen... -Sass_**

* * *

><p>Sofja's chest was heaving with anxiety, her red hair blowing wildly into her face as she leaned over what was only a few minutes ago a massive werewolf. Now it was Vilkas, and he was naked and weak.<p>

As Vilkas lay limp on the ground, completely bare, Sofja's pale eyes scanned his body for any wounds. Apart from what had just occurred, he seemed unharmed. She hesitated to touch him. How could she be sure what this was? Perhaps it could be a trap? Why had he come after her in his wolf form? Reaching her arm out, she grazed her fingers against his muscular chest. He shivered violently under her touch. He was not totally conscious, and she couldn't leave him. For a moment, her mind skipped to dark places. She'd never imagined seeing him in the nude like this—so vulnerable. The rational half of her pushed those thoughts aside. He needed her.

"Vilkas?" She whispered as she kneeled behind him. With care, she sat him up and leaned his back against her chest. She'd never touched him so much before… He was a solid mass of skin and muscle. There was nothing soft about him.

Sofja put her arms around his shoulders, hoping to offer him any bit of warmth. "Talk to me. Vilkas," she said quietly, but sternly. Sofja knew moments before, he could have killed her, but now that Vilkas was here and was himself, Sofja needed him to be alive to get some sort of explanation. After all, he had been very adamant about giving up the transformations. Vilkas' dark hair was matted with what appeared to be blood and dirt, and his face, like the rest of his body, was filthy. Beneath the filth, scars covered his tight chest and abdomen muscles.

"Ther…." He said just above a whisper.

"What?" She asked, looking down to see if he had opened his eyes. Vilkas used one hand to cover his nakedness, and with the other, pointed to the right, towards a patch of grass. "Sack. Clothes." Sofja nodded and laid him back down on the ground as she stood. Grabbing the sack, Sofja looked inside. She smiled weakly at his preparedness—he obviously knew he would change back to his human form out here, and brought supplies accordingly. There were clothes, a dagger, a few potions and three large tarps of cloth. Sofja knew that Vilkas was in no state to return to Jorrvaskr, so she decided to set up the camp for the night that he had brought with him. She would find out why he came for her. If he had done it for Aela… Well, she would have to deal with him appropriately. The thought made her hands shake, but she was the Dragonborn, after all.

Walking back over to Vilkas, Sofja leaned down and helped him dress again. She was careful to touch him as little as possible. The moments when her fingers brushed his skin sent a jolt through her body, but she knew she had to dress him if she wanted him to survive in the cold that enveloped them both. He was wearing a tunic and leggings—hardly enough to stay warm. He must have packed in hurry.

Next, she strung up the tarps between the nearest low-lying trees to create a makeshift campsite. Sofja silently gave thanks for missing out on a life of privilege—if she hadn't, she might not know how to pitch a tent or build a fire. Finally, she half-dragged Vilkas under the tarp and laid him down. Sitting next to him, she could still feel him shivering. She moved closer, although not enough to overcome hesitation, and threw the blanket over him and herself.

"Why did you come after me, Vilkas?" Sofja said, trying to maintain her composure. There had to be a good explanation… _Like he was sent here to kill her, but lost his nerve at the last minute? Or he was really working with Aela this whole time? Or…_ Sofja bit her lip in anger, pushing these thoughts away. Now she was mad.

"Were you planning on killing me? Did Aela put you up to this? Why in the name of Talos can you barely stand right now, did you get in some sort of a fight before you came out here?" Sofja asked harshly, leaning over him to aggressively brush the hair from his black eyes, wondering if he would answer. He shook his head. His eyes were still closed, but he had heard.

"Have you forgotten how to speak now?" She demanded, her full lips quivering with anticipation.

"The secret…must be kept." Vilkas' dark eyes finally met hers, and in them was some sort of shame, or sorrow. He replied with a shaking voice, and Sofja felt irritated. That barely answered one of her questions.

"So you raced here in your wolf form because you thought I couldn't handle the secret of the Circle? The secret I had sworn to keep until my death?" Sofja slid away from him. The anger in her was boiling up into her throat. "What were you planning on doing to me when you found me, flopping in my lap like this and letting me tend to you like a housemaiden while you threatened me to stay silent? What if I hadn't called out to you, would you have recognized me? Would you have killed me?" Her eyes were burning, her chest heaving slightly. He gave no quick reply, fueling the fire. Sofja continued on.

"And this is the trust I am owed? After the way you acted tonight? The least I deserve is an explanation better than that!" Sofja slapped the side of his shoulder in anger.

He shook his head with a chuckle, sitting up and crawling towards her cautiously. His dark eyes seemed brighter now. "Where did all this fire come from? Will you let me explain, Sofja? Gods have mercy." He sighed deeply, running one of his large hands through his thick, brown hair. "I heard your shout. Aela said that you were angry with me for the way I had acted towards you tonight and…you swore you would sell our secret." Vilkas paused for a moment in hesitation. "I find it hard to believe anything Aela says. She and I…had a bit of a battle over it. She got in a few good hits, but I did better." Vilkas smirked proudly. "I knew you were loyal, but I could only imagine what Aela had said to you… So I decided to run after you. I'm feeling weak because it's been so long since I made the change. The stronger the wolf is, the weaker I'll be when I return to normal."

They both paused in awkward silence, with Sofja wringing her hands together nervously. She believed his story, and was embarrassed at all her accusatory questions. Quickly, Sofja stoked a small fire in the midst of their little campsite.

"It was easier to track you as a wolf," he continued, watching Sofja as she caught a small flame on the wood. "Your scent is very distinct, I would not have touched you." Sofja's eyes locked with his. Lying in the moonlight, his eyes shone almost black, like two stones. Vilkas stared back at her unabashedly, admiring the way her red hair fell in waves down past her collarbone.

"Now you know my side. Why did you run?" He asked cautiously.

"Aela lied to you. I ran because I had no choice," she said in a low tone. "When you left my room, I followed you. She was outside, waiting. She heard everything. She said I had to choose the beast blood or death. I chose neither. I ran like a coward because I would not kill her," she shuddered. Vilkas reached out and rubbed his thumb along the length of her jaw. Sofja turned her face away.

"Don't touch me," She whispered. "You were the one who told me to stay away from the Circle…and from you."

"Do you want to know the reason I lost control earlier? Why I almost turned?" he said. "That kiss…" He trailed off, looking down as he remembered it; relived it. The taste of her—it made him shudder.

"Well," Vilkas started again, rubbing his hands together for warmth as he sat up towards the fire. "Any strong feeling that courses through my veins, it stirs the wolf. It takes over and I move closer towards losing myself. I almost hurt you because of a kiss. Not because you slapped me," he chuckled, still avoiding her gaze. He was afraid to see her expression. "I would have a hard time being a Companion otherwise."

Sofja didn't know what to say. What was he saying, that he… Desired her? She pulled the blankets up higher over her legs.

He broke into her silent thoughts once again. "I thought you disappeared tonight from the Companions, and the thought of never seeing you again was…unpleasant. I've grown used to the way you swing your sword too high and sing while you bathe." Sofja tried to interrupt, but he talked over her. "Stay away from the Circle all you like, but don't stay away from me," Vilkas whispered, his eyes darkening as he finally looked at her. Sofja's eyes were wide with confusion, longing and frustration.

His lust for her was maddening and selfish, but what Vilkas' words made her realize was the true meaning of surrendering to the beast blood. It was alarming and terrifying. Once it coursed through a person's veins, it owned him, as it did Vilkas. Well, it would not own her. She would not be owned by Hircine, or Aela, or Vilkas, or anyone.

Sofja breathed a deep sigh, choosing to ignore what he'd said about his feelings for her. He barely knew her, except that she was pretty clumsy, childish, bad at fighting… Oh yes, and the Dragonborn. "There's no known cure for the blood?"

"Kodlak searches every day," he replied softly. "I pray to the Nine for it… But so far, we are without much hope." Reaching out, Vilkas rested his hand on Sofja's cheek again. He waited for her to retaliate, but she barely moved. Barely breathed. His fingers were so cold against the softness of her cheek. "Now you understand why you must never share in the blood…" Their eyes met again, and there was something wild in his gaze that forced Sofja to keep looking at him. "Don't tell me that you don't feel something here. By the Nine, I know that there's something, Sofja…" He whispered.

She did feel something. A tugging at her hearstrings, a flip of her stomach, a warmth in her chest whenever he was near. But perhaps that was _lust. _And she hadn't come to the Companions for lust. Sofja had come to protect her secret (which she was doing a rather horrible job at), and to learn how to defend herself. Whatever nonsense she'd gotten mixed up in with the Circle was getting out of hand. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. That soft, calloused hand he rested on her cheek had been a werewolf's claw only twenty minutes before. And that's what terrified her more than anything.

"You were the one who warned me away the first time, and you were right." Sofja said quietly, moving his hand from her cheek. "I want nothing to do with the Circle unless Kodlak asks it of me. I didn't come here to join in the blood and I didn't come here for you. I came here to train, and that's what's going to happen from now on. I'm… I'm sorry."

The words cut him like a knife. Vilkas stared at Sofja, her eyes falling to the ground. Though the wolf was resting within him now, his heightened senses detected how quickly her heart was beating in her chest, and how fast she was breathing. _She's terrified of me,_ he thought. _How could I ask her to give me a chance, when I'm a monster?_

They laid down side by side, neither speaking another word all night. Although they tried to sleep, Sofja and Vilkas couldn't help thinking about what had passed between them.

* * *

><p>Sofja had kept herself busy for the last few weeks taking odd jobs from Farkas, Skjor and Aela. She avoided Vilkas at all costs, feeling a strange mixture of longing, fear and embarrassment every time she was in the same room as him. The rift between Aela and Sofja had disappeared, thanks to the intervention of Kodlak. Aela was heavily reprimanded for her actions, and given some secret punishment that not even Skjor could guess at. In exchange for Aela behaving like a sisterly Compaion, Sofja had agreed to complete jobs with her. It had kept their relationship civil, even if Sofja could tell that Aela still wanted her to take the blood.<p>

Sofja still completed many tasks for Farkas and Skjor, but she and Aela also were working to eradicate the Silver Moon Camps together. It was excellent combat practice for Sofja, and although Kodlak didn't necessarily know she and Aela were clearing out the camps, she knew they were a threat that the Companions couldn't afford. The more of them that lay dead, the safer the Companions would be. Although Sofja wanted to be stronger, the hunt for the Silver Moon bandits was beginning to feel like something else. The slaughter had become numbing to Sofja. She was starting to forget mercy…she felt like she was losing part of her humanity—as if she were a wolf already.

The night she spent with Vilkas was a revealing one. Sofja pushed him away out of fear, and although she knew it was the right decision, she still felt pangs of regret every so often. But Sofja had enough on her mind without walking the precipice of death every time she laid a kiss on his lips. Skyrim was a big place, and she would find a partner more suitable for her; none of Vilkas' quickly-stoked rage, his teasing flirtatiousness, and the werewolf curse seeping through his blood.

Sofja walked down the steps towards her room, intent on sleeping after a long day of tracking the movements of Silver Hand. The work was beginning to overtake her. Her shoulder slammed into someone as she walked; Sofja hardly noticed until the person grabbed her arm violently. She went rigid and turned around. It was Vilkas.

"Sofja," he said, an alarmed smile on his face. "You look dead. Why don't we grab a pint to warm your bones?" Sofja looked up at him without registering the request.

"I don't think so," she whispered, pulling away from him. Before she got very far, Vilkas grabbed her arm again. He'd tried everything he could think of, and she would still not look in his direction for more than a minute. He was beginning to fear that he'd made a terrible mistake. She was constantly with Aela now, coming back from wherever they were with blood-stained clothes and a hollow look in her eyes. Vilkas squeezed his fingers into her arm affectionately, but Sofja didn't see it that way.

"You know, that's starting to become annoying," Sofja said, a cruel smile playing on her lips as she reacted to his grasp on her forearm. Vilkas stared at her mouth, wanting to taste it again. He thought of little else since Sofja turned from him. Vilkas knew it was the safest idea, and he had tried to comply to be respectful of her, but he was becoming worried for her. The light in her eyes was fading, and he didn't know what to do to save her.

"Sofja, I need to tell you that I…" Before Vilkas could finish, she turned around and walked away from him. He followed her down the hallway.

"Don't ignore me," Vilkas warned. "I… I think of you so often. I mean, I…I worry about you, and I need to know you're alright. Something has changed in you and I just want—" Sofja could see the distress in his face, but she was too tired to accept it. There were many nights when she would curl into her pillow and imagine him saying the words he was saying now—perhaps a little more gracefully. But today, she was tired. Today, Sofja had sliced through the neck of a woman who begged for mercy. Today, she watched as Aela strangled the life from a boy who was no more than fifteen.

She held her fingers up to his lips. "Not today, Vilkas. I'm so tired. Nothing has changed." With that, she entered her room and closed the door behind her.

Vilkas sighed angrily, slamming a fist on her door.

* * *

><p>Kodlak had assembled them all into the Underforge. He had some sort of news for the members of the Circle, ans Sofja couldn't remember the last time they had been called upon. Still, she was beginning to feel as if she belonged there. She had done much for the Companions in the short amount of time she had been there, whether or not Kodlak knew or approved of it all. Kodlak, with his white hair and beard, his kind eyes and hardened soul, seemed to know of the slaughter Aela and Sofja had committed in the name of the Companions, but he did not speak of it; if Sofja knew better, she would think that he disapproved. But the Companions were free to do as they wished. Killing their sworn enemies, the Silver Hand, was certainly not something that would be forbidden. She had grown close to the old man in recent days, and she felt she could trust him. Somehow, he understood everything without having to utter a word.<p>

"Another piece of Wuuthrad has been located. I have called you here because our information tells us that it is located in the heart of a Silver Moon camp, twenty miles west of here. I would not advise such a mission…but we are now so close to restoring the sacred weapon of Ysgramor," Kodlak spoke with sadness in his eyes. He was right; only a few pieces remained to be found. The closer the Companions came to this, the more difficult the task became. Aela caught Sofja's eyes; she nodded slightly, silently suggesting that she and Sofja would go together to retrieve this next piece. They had already obliterated so many camps in the name of the Companions, the task would naturally fall to them. It didn't sound any more dangerous than usual.

Aela stepped forward to offer her and Sofja's services as usual. Her boldness and lust for killing caused Sofja to lower her eyes in shame.

"I, along with Sofja, will go as we—" Before Aela could finish, Kodlak held up a hand to her from across the cistern.

"That will not be necessary. This will be incredibly dangerous, and it requires the utmost…delicacy." Kodlak's eyes flashed as he spoke. Sofja knew he was not joking.

"Sofja will go. But Vilkas will accompany her," he said, looking between the two of them. Sofja grimaced with disbelief; how could he send them together? The old man kept to himself, but Sofja knew that he understood much more than he let on. They had many conversations together, and Kodlak would have to be blind not to see that something happened between her and Vilkas. Sofja thought back to the night that Vilkas had kissed her; he was not one for delicacy, obviously.

"Of course, Harbinger," Vilkas said quietly. Sofja nodded in compliance. She could not argue with a man for whom she had so much respect.

"I urge you to action quickly. If you can leave tonight, by all means do it."

Vilkas and Sofja's eyes met as the others left the Underforge.

"Sofja..." Vilkas said quietly, his dark eyes shining as he approached her. She held up a hand to him, signaling for him to stop.

"No time for this. Prepare to go, we leave within the hour."


	5. Chapter 5: The Decision

**Chapter V**

* * *

><p><em><strong>After Sofja's decision, things will be different...forever.<strong>_

* * *

><p>Within the hour, Vilkas and Sofja were prepared with weapons and armor. They spoke little until they had reached the outskirts of Whiterun.<p>

"Well, this will be interesting." Vilkas said sarcastically. Sofja looked over at him carefully, his wolf armor gleaming in the moonlight next to hers, his dark eyes and chocolate brown hair looking straight ahead. _Did he mean the mission, or being stuck with me through it?_

"Let's just get the job done, and do it honorably," she advised steadily. This was her task. They were both members of the Circle, and though she was younger, Sofja had already gained the trust of Aela and the other Companions, as well as Kodlak's ear. He had named her specifically.

"As always, Shield-Sister."

They slowly approached the camp, dismounted from their horses and tied them up a short distance from the area. It appeared to be a run-down fort, which the Silver Hand converted into an outpost. As they neared the lower entrance on foot, Vilkas began to move in front of Sofja, but she grabbed his wrist. He glared back at her, a look of mounting frustration in his surprised eyes. She released his hand quickly.

"This is my task. You accompany me, and I will lead," Sofja whispered, a feeling of excitement was building in her chest. She waited for Vilkas to disobey, but he nodded curtly and moved behind her.

They fought their way slowly and silently through the fort. There was still no sign of Wuuthrad piece, no mention of it in overheard conversation, but Kodlak was not usually wrong in these matters. Turning a darkened corner, the corridor split into two hallways. Sofja nodded to the right, motioning for Vilkas to move that way, while she slowly made her way to the left. As she crept, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. _I'm close,_ she thought.

At the end of the hallway, a chest sat in the darkness near supplies, letters of correspondence and gold. Sofja moved slowly, her blade raised at the ready and her footsteps silent. Nearing the chest, she bent down and rested her blade on the ground. It was locked, but nothing she couldn't handle. Pulling out a pick, Sofja easily unlocked the top of the chest and lifted it. Even in the darkness, she could see the dark shine of Ysgramor's sacred weapon.

Before she could reach her hand in, Sofja heard a battle cry from behind her, and the sound of metal slicing through the air. Her eyes went blank.

Suddenly, she was sitting against the wall near the chest. _What was happening?_ Her body felt numb, and her vision was blurry. She could just make out the outline of Vilkas finishing off a short, thin man, stabbing him with a quick jut of his blade. Once that was finished, he ran towards Sofja and knelt in front of her. He looked worried. _What was he doing? _Sofja glanced over at her shoulder, which was soaked in blood. _Is that my blood?_ She couldn't feel it, but it was ugly. She was lucky that her arm was still attached, and she struggled to lift up her hand to cover the wound as blood gushed out between her fingers. She could see Vilkas' mouth moving, but no words were coming out. Sofja could only hear waterfalls in her ears. Something had gone horribly wrong. Suddenly she felt herself being lifted up by Vilkas, and he carried her away until the world went white.

* * *

><p>When she awoke, she was reclining atop some animal skins in a tent. Looking out, she saw a fire burning brightly. The pain in her shoulder was worse than anything she had ever experienced, and upon waking, the searing agony of it brought tears to her eyes.<p>

"I was waiting for you to wake," Vilkas whispered, relief in his voice, crawling into the tent next to her. "Drink this, the pain will lessen quickly and it will begin to slowly heal. I couldn't give it to you unconscious." Vilkas offered her a red bottle, and she took it hungrily, sucking out the bitter liquid until the pain in her arm lessened. It must have been some sort of healing potion. Whatever it was, she wanted more.

"What happened?" She asked urgently. Why did it always seem that she owed Vilkas something? Still lying on her back, Sofja turned her head to watch him. He was pale.

"You let your guard down, that's what. A man snuck right up behind you, and nearly took your arm off with an axe. How did you not hear him? I mean for the—" He questioned angrily, but Sofja hardly let him finish.

"I didn't hear him, all right?! I don't have the wolf blood to smell someone's scent or hear their heartbeat as they stalk up behind me!" She cried out angrily, trying like a turtle on its back to sit up, since her arm was still in bad shape and she couldn't move it. "I'm a warrior like any other, and if that's not good enough, then maybe I'll find another company worthy of my sword. You can't tell me that the beast blood is a curse and then curse me for being a regular warrior. If you're so sensitive to your surroundings, then maybe you should have been there watching my back. I was too busy trying to finish the task at hand."

Vilkas swallowed hard, realizing he struck a chord with her. "Sofja… I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. I was just… I was worried about you, all right? I forgot what the world feels like without the blood."

Sofja rolled her eyes. "Fine. Did you take the Wuuthrad piece? It was in that chest I found."

Vilkas shifted towards Sofja, pulling her closer so that she could lean on him and lie down without hurting her arm further. "Yes," he replied soberly, "it is done." A silence stretched between them. Sofja closed her eyes, moving ever so slightly with the rise and fall of his breath. She allowed the closeness, for now. She needed it. Her shoulder ached badly, but compared to the pain Sofja felt before, this was livable.

Vilkas turned his head towards her, and she could feel his breath on the top of her head as he began to speak. "Answer me a question, Sofja: why did you join the Companions?"

Sofja stared into the fire just outside the tent, her face going blank. She had an entire false story concocted in case anyone asked—but no one had. Funny, the one person who did already knew the truth about her.

"I joined after discovering I was the Dragonborn…to learn how to defend myself, and to stay hidden. I knew the world would either take advantage of me, or try to destroy me, so I fled to Whiterun to find shelter." She said quietly. Vilkas nodded, signaling her to continue.

"People think the Dragonborn is some great hero who'll save the world and restore peace, but I'm no such person. I'm just me—hardly a fighter, with barely any sort of magic, and on top of it all, I'm a woman. The good people of the world will lay all their hopes and fears on my shoulders until I collapse. Jarls will call me from all over Skyrim until I'm torn in a million directions. Those who welcome the dragon's return will want me dead. It's… too much."

After a few moments of silence, Vilkas took a deep breath. "Well, that's pretty selfish, don't you think?"

Sofja's mouth gaped open. "Excuse me? Do you want me to shout you to pieces…_again?_"

Vilkas chuckled. "Wait just a minute here, let me explain. All I'm saying is… You were given this gift for a reason. As scary as it is, you are the chosen one, the _Dovahkiin. _And people need saving, even if you only start with one," he said, his voice growing somber. "You have a responsibility. You don't have to become a puppet to the world, but you do have the power to change it, which is more than most have in ten lifetimes."

Sofja stayed silent. _Was he right?_ She changed the subject, not wanting to think about what her responsibility to the people of Skyrim really was. "Why did you join? Farkas told me a little of your path," Sofja whispered at him softly, her eyes heavy with fatigue as she leaned her head into his chest.

"It's not an exciting story. My brother and I grew up here under Kodlak's watchful eye. Our real father left us and never returned. What's done is done, but I have been blessed to have been raised by Kodlak. He is more a man and a leader than I will ever be. Let's get some shut eye now, hm?" Carefully, he wrapped his arms around Sofja, pulling her down on her good shoulder so that they both could rest more easily. A few minutes passed, but Vilkas spoke up again.

"Sofja… I have to say something," He whispered.

"Vilkas, don't—" Sofja tried to shift away from him slightly, but Vilkas tightened his grip on her. It made her shoulder ache, and she whimpered.

"Don't move and I won't hurt you! Just listen!" He cautioned. "You are entitled to feel however you choose about me, but I will make it clear how I feel, before I miss another chance."

She didn't make a sound.

"Some time ago, I told you that I desired you, that I lusted for you… But I feel more than that, and these past few months have proven it. I care for you, as a shield-sister, as a friend, and… as a woman. Just know that before you decide that I'm some flea-ridden mutt."

"Just stop," she interrupted with anger and fear, trying to turn away from him. As much as she wanted to believe it… He was a wolf inside. And if she gave into him, she would always walk the line of danger.

"You're lying," he growled. "You're terrified of allowing yourself to be vulnerable. You won't let yourself take the chance, even if it means your happiness with a monster like me. Don't forget I can hear your pulse, I can taste the fear in your words. At least be honest with me."

Sofja turned her head in surprise towards him, but before she could move another inch, he launched himself atop her, kissing her lips with fervor. And he was right—she was lying. She kissed back, and held nothing back at the feeling of his chest against hers.

Vilkas' left hand cupped her face as he propped himself up with his right arm. Sofja lay below him, and she slowly wrapped her good arm around his neck. They were a fury of breaths and sighs, lips parting as their kiss deepened, intensified. Quickly, Vilkas lifted his head back and stared down at Sofja, her chest moving fast.

His eyes flashed at hers, as if to say _see, told you so_. Sofja turned her eyes away from him, ashamed. She swallowed hard, not knowing what to say, until she felt his lips again—this time on her forehead.

"I will win you yet," he whispered into her hair. "I promise I can be better. I'll prove that you have nothing to fear."

* * *

><p>In the morning, Vilkas and Sofja rose quickly and silently, packed camp and returned to Jorrvaskr. Sofja was taken immediately by Aela to Kynareth's temple to locate a healer; although the potion she drank helped to close the wound on her shoulder, there was still much to be repaired. Sofja remained there in the company of the priestesses overnight to rest.<p>

Sofja reclined on her cot, her arm bandaged, staring up at the ceiling. Most of the temple was peaceful; the sound of trickling water echoed through the room. She replayed the mission with Vilkas again in her head, and what happened after. It would seem they had almost mended any bad blood between them, even though she still denied him. She was afraid…not just of his wolf side, but of allowing herself to feel something for him, with no guarantees of what the future would bring. That was more terrifying than anything.

Sofja felt weak, but Vilkas' words assured her. She could not let her guard down for a moment, near anyone, but she believed in him. After a hours lying there and being tended to by the priestesses, Sofja's mind finally settled enough to allow her some rest, but before she could truly drift off, the sound of the temple door creaking open startled her. Sitting up carefully, she saw Aela. She would never trust Aela again, but Sofja could not deny that they had formed some type of bond through the tasks they completed together. The huntress rushed in, a look of worry on her face. Sofja knew better than to think it was out of concern for her health.

"What's wrong, Aela?" Sofja questioned sternly.

"It's Vilkas. Something has gone wrong… If he's not dead, he will be soon—and we need your help."

"What's happened?" Sofja questioned urgently. Aela rubbed her hands together, still silent. "Aela!" Sofja demanded, slowly pushing herself off of the cot she had been lying on. The huntress, with her auburn hair a tangled mess around her face, finally raised her eyes.

"He went to recover a fraction of Wuuthrad this morning, not long after you returned. Kodlak assumed it would be a simple task, and so he sent him alone. He had three specific caves to look through, each fairly small. It should have taken no more than two hours, but he hasn't returned since early this morning. We fear the worst. We have caught wind of a Silver Hand ambush in the area," she whispered.

Sofja walked towards her, her shoulder still throbbing. "Then we must find him."

Aela shook her head. "It's not that simple, but Skjor and I will do everything we can to help, as long as you do the same. Meet Skjor outside the Underforge in one half hour."

* * *

><p>Sofja dressed for battle and walked towards Jorrvaskr, as Aela requested. The pain in her arm burned, but if the last words she ever spoke to Vilkas were ones of rejection, Sofja would regret it all her life. He had tried to be a friend to her, no matter the reason. The kisses weren't enough—she needed to tell him the truth about her feelings for him. Climbing the steps, she saw Skjor, and nodded to him respectfully.<p>

"We're glad you've come, Sofja. Follow me."

She entered into the Underforge behind Skjor. The stone slab which hid the room closed quickly behind them, and she heard a click, as if the door had locked. And quickly, she knew why. Looking up, she saw a large, red werewolf standing behind the basin of the Underforge. Sofja nearly turned around to bang on the door for help. This had to be some sort of trick.

"What is this?" Sofja demanded angrily. Skjor turned towards her, taking small steps back towards the wolf and the basin behind him.

"The Underforge taps an ancient magic that is older than men or elves. We bring you here to make you stronger, new blood."

Sofja shook her head in protest, but Skjor raised his hands to her, asking her to listen silently.

"That pitiful ceremony in the hall does not befit warriors like us. It's time we had a warrior like you among our numbers, especially at this time, when Vilkas is so in need of our aid," he offered, a near smile on his face. "I would hope you recognize Aela, even in this form." He gestured to the werewolf standing at anxious attention behind him. "She's agreed to be your forebear. We do this in secret because Kodlak is too busy trying to throw away this great gift we've been granted. He thinks we've been cursed, but we've been blessed!"

Skjor looked back at Aela with some sort of affection in his eyes—either for her, or for her current form. "How can something that gives this kind of prowess be a curse?" He demanded.

Sofja shook her head. "What does this have to do with Vilkas? I don't care what you or Kodlak or anyone thinks! Just get to the point!"

Skjor bowed his head in amusement. "As you wish. To reach the heights of the Companions, you must join with us in the shared blood of the wolf. The only way to find Vilkas is to track him. Aela and I could do such a thing, but we are old wolves, and it would take too long for us to harness our heightened senses. No, in order to find him, hopefully before it's too late, we need a new wolf to take his scent. It is well established that the first transformation of a new wolf is the strongest, the most…powerful. And you are in no condition in your human form to do battle, with your arm as it is." Skjor stopped, staring at Sofja.

Sofja stopped, listening to his words. She'd heard Kodlak say it before, the first change is the strongest; the most sensitive. But how could she trust Aela and Skjor? Sofja had vowed a long time ago that she would not share in the beast blood. She believed in what Kodlak and Vilkas believed, that the beast blood was a curse. But could the Nine excuse the joining if it was to save a life? If it was to save someone dearly cared for? Sofja bit her lip, thinking about the words her mind had just thrown together…_dearly cared for…_since when was Vilkas dearly cared for, dearly loved? She tried to shake it away, and yet Sofja felt uneasy.

"This is no trick," Skjor began again, seeing the expression on Sofja's face shift. "Vilkas needs you. We will accompany you, but you joining in the blood is the only way to ensure that he is found as quickly as possible. There are three caves, but with the ambush, it would be suicide for us as we are. Searching and fighting would take too long, unless you tracked him immediately. So, are you prepared to join your spirit with the beast world?"

"I don't trust you, or this. I will find him on my own—" Sofja began.

"Ignorant child, he hasn't the time! He needs you now! And to save him, you must join the Circle truly, and your blood must be as ours!"

Sofja stared at Aela's wolf form. Aela was calm, but her form revealed a body riddled with dark scars and old wounds. Would this be her fate? It was everything she swore against. But Vilkas… She had to find him. Just last night, Vilkas had spoken of her gifts, of how she had a responsibility to help others, even if she only started by helping one person... Well, he would be that one. Walking towards the basin, she nodded.

Skjor smiled, and nodded at Aela, who slowly approached him. Pulling a dagger from his hilt, he grabbed the wrist of the large, red werewolf and sliced its paw. It howled softly as blood spilt into the basin.

Sofja leaned her head in, dipped her hand into the blood and drank.


	6. Chapter 6: The Aftermath

**Chapter VI**

* * *

><p><strong><em>As always, thank you for the feedback, readers! I appreciate it more than you realize. And speaking of feedback...<em>**

**_As some of you clever people picked up on (thank you, Manu!), I accidentally referred to Sofja by the name "Freja" in the last chapter... Freja is actually the name of the main character in my next Thieves Guild fanfic, which I've been working on alongside this one! Sorry for the confusion, it was a late night! You're all too smart for your own good!_**

**_The first chapter of that one'll be out soon, along with the next chapter of The Dragon Among the Wolves. Stay tuned :)_**

* * *

><p>Vilkas burst through the front doors of Jorrvaskr a little after sundown, feeling triumphant. Although he had been exhausted after his mission with Sofja, he was happy to jump right into another mission for Kodlak. He had traveled nonstop for hours to Winterhold to meet with a mage from the college there. It was a long journey, and although Vilkas knew few details, it seemed as though Kodlak had reached out to the college to research a cure for the wolf blood. They had made progress, and the mage gave Vilkas a letter to relay to Kodlak. If he had less respect for the old Harbinger, he would have read the letter himself first and resealed it. But he would not. It was for Kodlak's eyes only, and Vilkas could feel the hope emanating from the envelope. The information this letter held could change all their lives, and perhaps they would see the mists of Sovngarde after all.<p>

Heading down towards the living quarters, he was stopped by Torvar.

"Well hey there, buddy! Look at you, in one piece! Where are the others?" Torvar slapped him on the back heartily, a toothy smile peeking out from behind his blonde beard. Vilkas was not amused. What was that supposed to mean?

"Of course I'm in one piece. It would be embarrassing otherwise," Vilkas scoffed. Did these primitive warriors really fear the mages of Winterhold so much? "And what others? I went alone. Here," he said, handing the letter to Torvar, "get this to Kodlak as soon as possible."

A look of confusion crossed Torvar's face as he grabbed the envelope. "Well I don't think it'd be embarrassing, walking into an ambush of the Silver Hand. And I mean Skjor and Sofja. Aela already returned, I think, but the other two were out looking for you. Rumor has it you went to retrieve another piece of Wuuthrad!"

Vilkas' blackish eyes went narrow. "I wasn't anywhere near the Silver Hand, I've been in Winterhold for the last day or so on business…" Suddenly, he trailed off. This had to be some trickery of Aela's. What had she done? And for what purpose? Without saying another word to Torvar, Vilkas tore down the steps to look for Aela. He could just make out the faint smell of lilac—of Sofja—but something was off.

Banging on Aela's door, he did not wait for a response and bounded in. The room was shrouded in shadow, except for a few candles, and Aela sat on the floor in the corner. Her hair was a matted mess, and she was covered in dirt and grime. She looked up, startled like a sick dog, and Vilkas stomped towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her up to her feet so that she could face him honorably.

"What have you done!" Vilkas bellowed in Aela's face. "Why the deception? You knew I was on business in Winterhold! Where is Sofja, and Skjor?" Vilkas waited for a fiery response, but none came. Aela's eyes looked lifeless.

"Skjor is dead," she whispered, her voice brimming with pain and despair. "The Silver Hand saw to that."

Vilkas' mouth gaped open in shock. He had no love for Skjor, but he was Aela's mate, and a skilled and passionate member of the Circle.

His mind quickly jumped to Sofja—to the one he wanted to be his mate. "And what about Sofja? Tell me Aela, or I'll rip you to pieces! Why this trickery?"

Aela met his eyes, a look of disgust on her face. "Sofja's feebleness made itself very apparent without the beast blood. A Dovahkiin, and still so weak in the flesh… I knew she would not agree to taking the blood unless she thought it was the only choice. I told her you were in danger, and that in order to reach you in time, she'd have to track you. She bent so quickly." Aela stared at the ground, almost looking regretful—almost. "Then we went to exterminate another massive Silver Hand encampment. I thought it would be a glorious victory, three wolves in the blood together. But hers was not an easy transformation. She did not make it to the ambush. If she had, perhaps Skjor would still be alive," Aela whispered, her eyes watery with tears.

Vilkas' eyes widened, and his blood ran cold. He slammed Aela against the wall, shaking the room. "I feel no pity for you as long as you threaten those I love. Now tell me….where…is…she?" He whispered, his voice quivering with rage. Aela smiled wickedly, as if hearing a pleasant story.

"I lost my mate, why shouldn't you lose yours?" Aela snapped, grinding her teeth as she spoke. Vilkas slammed her harder against the wall, sending pitchers and plates flying off of the table next to them. Aela laughed.

"Tell me where she is, or I will kill you where you stand!" Vilkas bellowed.

"She was alive, last I saw, whispering your name like a prayer to the Nine. Tumbling down the side of a snowy ravine into a river. I doubt you'll find her alive, but if you're so inclined to retrieve her body... In the mountains to the northeast, that's as much as I know. As much as I could smell before I continued on."

Vilkas threw her to the ground and ran to his room. Grabbing a small sack, he threw any clothes he could find into it and then bounded up the stairs. She would be naked when he found her, and if she was frozen in the snow somewhere, as Aela said, he would have to move quickly. Vilkas knew that the only way to find her would be to assume his wolf form. So, stealthily, Vilkas made his way to the outskirts of Whiterun, beyond the city walls.

As soon as he reached the cover of the forest, he carefully stripped off his clothes and packed them into the cloth sack he carried with him. There could be no mistakes, here. Standing nude, freezing in the moonlight, Vilkas tried to concentrate, to allow the wolf to overtake him. He was breathing rapidly, his heart beating with intense speed._ Focus,_ the thought, _focus…for Sofja. _

Suddenly, his body grew warm, his muscles began twitching, and he knew it was time. Looking up to the sky, he begged the Nine Divines for forgiveness for himself, and for Sofja's decision to take the blood.

The wolf ripped through him violently; it had been many moons since he allowed the transformation, and so this one would be more painful, and yet more powerful as well. Vilkas hoped this would work to his advantage. As soon as his bones and muscles rearranged, Vilkas went flying on all fours, his rough, dark fur bristling in the cold. He could smell her faintly, but it wasn't good enough. Vilkas began running in the direction Aela had said; it seemed like miles until the scent started to pick up to the northeast. He clutched the sack of clothing between his jaws tightly.

After half an hour or so, Vilkas came to a thickly-forested area high in the mountains. He could smell her blood strongly, which meant that it had been spilled. Pushing through the thick brush and snow, Vilkas finally came upon the ravine where she must have fallen. Only yards away, a powerful waterfall pumped out freezing water and ice shards. _If she fell down there…_

He pushed the thought of her demise away and quickly jumped down the side of the ravine onto a small cliff. His wolf eyes scanned for her body; the scent of her was getting stronger now. Sofja was here—his senses were screaming it. Sprinting down a steep embankment, his eyes widened. He could make out a figure in the slush, lying on an outcropping of rocks just over the falls, just a ways below him. If she had fallen a few meters to the right, she would've missed the little cliff she'd landed on and fallen into the jagged rocks all the way at the bottom.

Vilkas ran so quickly he felt as though he would forget to breathe. The sight of her terrified him. She was completely naked, barely breathing and curled in a ball near the edge of a hollow tree stump. Her body was as white as snow, but covered in gashes, bruises and dirt. The snow around her was stained red, with wounds from her shoulders to her shins.

Vilkas fell to his knees, transforming back slowly and painfully to his human form. He shivered, crouching naked in the snow, gathering Sofja's body into him. He never imagined that the first time they would touch, body to body, would be because she was half dead and he had been in his wolf form. _Not the time, Vilkas,_ he scolded himself.

"Why… Sofja, why did you do this?" Vilkas managed to stammer out in the cold, trying to offer his body heat to her. His vision was cloudy as his body readjusted from the transformation. Letting her rest in his lap, he violently dug into the sack for his bearskin clothes and threw them on her. The night was so quiet, but his heart beat into his ears; he was sure anyone would have been able to hear his heart's sound across a crowded mead hall. Once she was clothed, Vilkas laid Sofja gently back down in the snow. If he was to get her home as quickly as possible, he would have to do it as the wolf, and she would have to hang onto his back.

"Sofja, can you hear me? Sofja?" He said, his voice quivering as he leaned over her. She didn't respond, a slight whimpering escaping her lips.

Sighing with disappointment, Vilkas lifted her onto his back, wrapping a blanket around her and tying the front of it around his chest. She was strapped to him, and even in his wolf form, she would be safe until they got back to Jorrvaskr. Falling to his knees, Vilkas again let the wolf form overtake him. He'd never transformed while holding someone on his back… He hoped this would be the first and last time. Feeling his bones rearrange while Sofja laid unconscious and nude on his spine was a strange sensation.

As soon as the transformation ended, he began sprinting.

He slammed through the front door of Jorrvaskr not much later, taking care to change into his human form outside of Whiterun and change back into his clothes. The warmth hit his face welcomingly, and he held Sofja now in his arms, instead of on his back. It was late, and the hall was empty. _Good, less explaining to do._ He flew down the stairs and ran through the hallway to his room, locking the door behind them both after he'd set Sofja down on the bed. Not a soul would disturb them. When Sofja was lying on the cot, he went over to see her condition. Her heartbeat was faint, and the ice was just beginning to melt from her eyelashes. Her lips were purple, and it made Vilkas nervous.

There was a basin filled with hot water in the small hearth of his room, and it gave Vilkas an idea. It was usually for the purpose of washing clothes or boiling food, but Vilkas decided desperate times called for desperate measures. Turning back to the bed, Vilkas slowly undressed Sofja until she was bare before him again. Then, he carried her to the basin and sat her in it—thankfully, she just barely fit into it.

Lifting a small pot of water from the table, he slowly poured it over Sofja's white back. She finally stirred, her back arching at the feeling of the hot water on her.

"Wha…where am I?" She whispered.

"You're back at Jorrvaskr, Sofja. It's me, Vilkas." He said quietly, thrilled that she was speaking. She tilted her head up towards him, smiling softly.

"Well, you look like crap," Sofja teased weakly, slumping backwards into the wooden tub. Vilkas let out a harsh laugh, leaning down to sit her up so she didn't sink beneath the steaming water. He tried to look away from her body, but it was difficult. Gently, Vilkas cupped the water in his hands and lifted it over her face and shoulders. Vilkas could see the color rise in Sofja's face again, and he decided to let her soak for a few minutes as he turned around, leaning against the wall. He tried desperately to keep his eyes away from her nude form.

"How can you joke at a time like this?" Vilkas demanded harshly. "Do you realize what would have happened if I hadn't found you?"

Still looking away from her, he heard Sofja shift in the basin, the sound of water swishing around her. "Yes…but you did." Sofja began coughing wildly, and Vilkas turned towards her to see blood drip from her mouth. His eyes widened and he knelt next to the basin, wiping the redness from her lips. Her half-opened eyes caught sight of him as he clutched either side of her face.

"What happened to you?" He asked quietly. "I've never heard of a transformation going so badly before."

"How should I know?" She whispered deliriously. He sighed hopelessly, only comforted by the fact that she looked slightly cleaner. He wondered if Sofja was in such bad shape because of the transformation, or from something else. "But I'm alive… So thank you," she whispered.

Once the water heated her bones, Vilkas lifted Sofja out of the bath, wrapping her in a giant bearskin. He placed her on his bed and covered her in extra blankets before stoking the fire in the stove. Once it was crackling, he turned to face her. Sofja's lips, which were usually the lightest shades of pink, were still purplish-blue in the fire light. Her skin was strange splotches of red and white, and she began shivering uncontrollably. He walked around the divider which separated the bed from the rest of the room, pulling the blankets off of her quickly.

"I…f-f-feel…so s-sick…so weak…" She whispered.

"Gods…" he whispered. Ripping the tunic off of his body, he slid it over her head. Then, Vilkas slid bare-chested into bed with Sofja and pulled her closer so that he could feel her breath on his neck. As long as he could feel that breath, he knew she would be all right. Vilkas ran his fingers up and down her arms until the friction offered some more heat, even though the bath had warmed her well enough.

"Sofja… For the love of the Nine, you're a damn fool…" Vilkas whispered angrily. Had he done enough to protect her? To let her know what she meant to him? Vilkas thought he had, and things still ended up like this… He should have tried harder, done more.

"Vilkas…" She whispered. Her shivering subsided some as they exchanged body heat. Vilkas sat up in bed and leaned against the wall behind him, pulling her with him into his lap.

"I am s-so sorry, Vilkas… I've betrayed you…" She whispered, shaking her head softly. "I just thought… I thought…"

"Don't talk, you don't need to," Vilkas whispered back. "Aela tricked you, and for once you decided to be a hero. What's done is done."

"But…b-but will you forgive me…can you? After all you've said about the curse?"

"You're worried about me? I'd be more worried about what the Nine Divines think." Vilkas said sarcastically.

Her mind was clouded with fatigue, pain and confusion. But one thing she understood was the rise and fall of Vilkas' hard chest, and the dark hair that covered the center of it. She leaned her forehead into him, slowly losing herself to some overwhelming darkness. From what she could understand, she had been betrayed by Aela and Skjor. She changed, and she remembered the words they spoke. They knew Vilkas was not to be found. The change was so painful that she could go no further, and they left her to die, sputtering between wolf and woman. But Vilkas was alive. She had taken the beast blood for nothing…and it was everything she had sworn against.

"I thought you were near death," she whispered. "They said it was the only way to find you in time." Vilkas took a deep, angry breath.

"Well, look how the tables have turned, hm? You should know better than to trust anything Aela says," he spat back. Part of him was furious at the entire situation. If he'd only been here, things would've been different… But he wasn't. And now Sofja would have to suffer an eternity in the hunting grounds of Hircine—unless there truly was a cure to be found.

"I'm just frustrated… I'm so angry that you thought you had to do this, Sofja. What were you trying to prove? You had a choice," Vilkas whispered fiercely. His voice was beginning to shake, and he swallowed his uncertainty away. "You're the Dragonborn, for Gods' sakes…" He stopped for a moment, gathering his thoughts as she closed her eyes.

They both remained silent for a few moments. Sofja's breathing evened out slightly, and Vilkas collected his thoughts to the sound of it.

"I love you, Sofja." Vilkas said finally.

He waited for a response, but when none came, he decided to continue. "I think I must, because I don't know why else I would feel this way… When you're near, my heart wants to burst. When you're gone, my heart wants to burst. In danger, in safety, in sickness and in beast blood… I don't know what you've done to me." He chuckled quietly, looking down at the fire. "I've tried to tell you this in the past, but you wouldn't listen. I hoped that maybe, tonight has proved that you were listening, and that perhaps you share those feelings…"

He waited for a response. Finally gathering the courage, he looked down at her. Her breath was even and her eyes were closed—she had fallen asleep. Vilkas chuckled. Maybe she hadn't heard his confession. He half hoped she hadn't—it wasn't the most graceful thing he ever said.

"Goodnight, little wolf," he whispered. Closing his eyes, he tried to drift to sleep, until he realized something—Sofja's breath had stopped. _She wasn't breathing. _Sitting up quickly, he shook her a little.

"Sofja? Sofja?!" He bellowed. After a few moments, her eyes opened, and relief washed over him. But the relief was short-lived; her eyes were bright yellow, and her skin was hot. _She was about to make the change again—right here, in Jorrvaskr. With the power of the Dragonborn fueling the beast blood._


	7. Chapter 7: The Communion

**Chapter VII**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hey all! Sorry it's taken a while, but here's the next chapter. Be aware, there is a bit of mature content in this section. Thank you for reading, commenting, favoriting and following! You guys are the best!<strong>_

_**UPDATE: Hey guys! It's been a while, so I just wanted to check in. I'm in the midst of my final exam week, so I probably won't have enough time to update. However, I do have the prologue written to the other story I've been working on, so until I have time to update The Dragon Among the Wolves, I figured I'd give you guys something else to read, if you're interested! Hopefully by the end of the week, I'll have the next chapter of this story up.**_

* * *

><p>"Sofja…" Vilkas said more quietly, holding her steadily in his arms as they sat on the bed together. He knew that if he was going to talk her down from making the transformation again, he would have to remain calm and gentle. Vilkas remembered how confusing the first night was after his change; of course for Farkas, it was as if the whole thing hadn't happened. It seemed like the beast blood was made for him. But for Vilkas, it was like having a thousand voices in your head at once, a thousand smells in your nose, and a million colors and lights in your eyes. Everything she would see from now on would be through a lens infinitely more acute; every creak, every whisper and every swish of the wind was like the blaring of a trumpet. She would be able to smell his cinnamon musk, his desire, the fire on his skin. And it would probably be too much to handle.<p>

Sofja's breathing was hard and shallow, and as much as it alarmed Vilkas, he stared into her gold, liquidy eyes and spoke evenly. "Sofja, listen to the sound of my voice. Don't give in, stay here with me. Stay with me," he said. Her red hair was sticking to her face as she sweat.

All of the sudden, Vilkas heard the familiar sound of bones snapping and ligaments popping, and Sofja began screaming out in horrific pain. Vilkas wrapped his arms around her small frame, crushing her body against his. He didn't care if she turned into a wolf in his arms—he couldn't stand the thought of her being in pain again. He wasn't going to abandon her. Tears pricked his eyes as her cries echoed throughout the room, only muffling as she pressed her face into his shoulder. The sound of her agony was horrifying, even though they all went through it each time.

"I'm here, I'm here…" He whispered. Suddenly, it stopped, and Sofja went quiet, her breathing a bit more even. He didn't move an inch, waiting to see what would happen.

"Vilkas…" She finally whispered back. Vilkas let out a sigh of relief. The transformation had stopped again.

"What have I done?" Sofja said weakly. She blinked a few times, lifting her face away from his bare chest. Sofja and Vilkas' eyes met, but he didn't know what to say for a moment.

"You will learn to live with it, as we all have," he began quietly.

Sofja pulled away from Vilkas and he released his grip on her. "Easy, now…" He said. She stood up quickly next to the bed and shuddered, unsteady. Her senses were overwhelming her, and she felt incredibly weak. Before she could take a step, Sofja toppled backwards onto the bed, overcome with dizziness, across Vilkas' legs. If the situation had been less dire, he might have chuckled.

Rolling his eyes, he reached forward, helping her sit up. They sat side by side on the bed, their legs touching. Vilkas swallowed hard, suddenly becoming very aware of her. He only had his pants on, and she was wearing his tunic from the night before. It was huge on her. He cleared his throat.

"For the love of the Nine, take your time, Sofja!" He said harshly. "Nothing is the same as it was before. Your senses are heightened and you're going to feel weak because the change saps your energy." Vilkas stared into the fire, rubbing the bristly stubble that was growing over his cheeks and chin. He could feel Sofja's eyes on him. Would this woman ever stop causing him grief?

"Vilkas…" Sofja said just above a whisper, wringing her hands anxiously in her lap, like she wanted to say something. He was afraid to look at her; he wasn't sure what he'd see in her eyes, and he didn't know how to tell her it was all going to be all right, and that she would be cursed to Hircine's hunting grounds, just like the rest of them.

"I wish you hadn't done this…even if it was for me." Vilkas dared to say, stealing a glance at her sideways. She was pale, and looked like she'd been in a drinking contest with a daedra.

"I thought it was the only way," she said hoarsely. Vilkas scoffed at her, and it made her head swim with rage. Why was he such an ornery lout? Sofja turned to face him, his tunic hanging off of her shoulder. "I'm sorry, weren't you the one who told me just a few days ago that I need to act like a hero? That I have a responsibility to others? But when someone I care about is in danger, then it doesn't count? If I had to choose between the blood and your death, I'd always choose the blood, and I feel no shame in that." She replied, her voice shaking with rage.

"I know I shouldn't have trusted Aela. But I couldn't handle… I just didn't want…" Sofja trailed off, running her fingers through her hair.

Vilkas turned to her, placing his rough hands on either side of her pale, porcelain face and bringing her gaze to meet his. Her heartbeat was stronger than ever, perhaps a product of the beast blood running through her veins. Or maybe it was something else. He stared into Sofja's eyes.

"You sacrificed for me. I appreciate this," he muttered with a sigh. "I'm sorry. Calm down before you change again." She rolled her eyes at him.

"You probably couldn't handle me if I did," Sofja said mischievously.

"Is that a challenge?" He teased back, letting his hands fall away from her cheeks.

They smiled at each other—something that felt so natural, and yet was so absent from the past months of tension and turmoil. As their smiles faded away, they continued staring into each other's eyes. The silence was filled with so much unspoken desire, frustration and confusion.

Leaning towards him, Sofja ran her fingers along the side of his cheek. His face was rough with stubble, and she enjoyed how it felt beneath her fingertips. Sofja couldn't help but smirk as she smelled the anxiety ebb off him. So this was why he was always so confident? Vilkas could sense every shade of emotion in her, as she could in him, now—the quickened pace of his heart, or the way his breath hitched in his throat. Seeing him now, like this, Sofja saw his vulnerability. There was something different about him, something she hadn't seen before, in him or anyone. She sensed adoration…loyalty…concern.

At the feeling of her fingers against his cheek, Vilkas didn't know how to react. Sofja was making him nervous. A small smirk pulled at his lips, but he remained silent.

"I'm sorry I kept pushing you away," Sofja said quietly, running her fingers along his chin again. "You were right… I was afraid. But nearly losing you has changed that. There are worse things to fear." Slowly he lifted his hand, placing it over where hers rested on his jawline.

Sofja shifted on the bed, moving closer towards where Vilkas sat. Delicately, she leaned up to place a kiss on his lips. Their lips touched with the lightness of a feather, and Vilkas' arms snaked around her waist. After a few moments, Vilkas pulled back, leaning his forehead against hers.

"You're forgiven." He said softly. "I told you I would find your heart. You've always had mine." She smiled, and with that, a surge of happiness shot through his core. _Is this real?_

Carefully, Vilkas laid back onto the bed, bringing Sofja with him, pressing his lips to hers again. They had finally come together: lilac and fire, light and dark, beast and beauty. Although she was lying on top of him, she was so small and fragile that it amazed him how fierce she actually could be in a fight.

Suddenly, Sofja sat up, straddling Vilkas. She curled her fingers underneath the hem of her tunic and slowly pulled it off, throwing it on the floor near the bed. Somehow, the wolf was silent as Vilkas' heart raced. He had seen her bare before, but that was when she was near death. Now… She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever beheld. Vilkas stared at the curve of her breasts, her flat stomach and her delicate womanhood. Looking up at her shoulder—where she had been injured days before—it was if it had never happened. All he could see was her soft skin, and a small line where an axe had tried to ruin it.

"I want you to see me, all of me." She explained in a soft tone, staring down into his dark eyes. "And I want to see you." Sofja laid down next to him, and Vilkas slowly slipped off his pants. They stared at each other, awed. Sofja ran her fingers over his bare chest, examining every scar, every bruise and every mark he'd earned through his suffering over the years. He closed his eyes at the sensation of her fingertips, resting his hand on the curve of her hip. It was the most vulnerable, intimate moment Vilkas had ever experienced—allowing this woman to find every flaw on his skin, to trace over the imperfections that were, to him, only reminders of the worst moments of his life. The times villagers had caught him in his wolf form and tried to beat him to death. The moment an arrow pierced him, narrowly missing his heart. The scars he'd earned against the Silver Hand.

Sofja gazed at the soft curves of his hardened ab muscles, the coarse, dark hair that traced all the way down to his manhood, and the way his strong, taut body grew goose bumps when she traced her fingertips over him. Inching closer, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and Vilkas instinctively leaned his head down to offer her another kiss.

He ran his hands over the soft curves of her breasts, their kiss intensifying, when there was a sharp tapping at his door. "What is it?" Vilkas responded, trying to sound normal even though he thought his heart was going to burst.

"It's me, brother. Have you seen Sofja? Kodlak requests her presence," Farkas called. Vilkas looked down at the glowing woman lying next to him. Her eyes widened with curiosity, and a bit of worry. "I'll find her," Vilkas called back, leaning down to kiss her lips once more, a smirk on his face.

"Don't worry," Vilkas said after a moment. "I'm sure Kodlak just wants to discuss the change with you. By now, he knows what's happened." She nodded, anxiety filling her stomach.

* * *

><p>In the hour, Sofja had bathed and dressed. Slipping out of Vilkas' room, she walked down the hallway towards Kodlak's chambers. She wondered what he could want…there were so many things she had done in the past few hours to earn her a staunch reprimanding—taking the wolf blood, nearly losing control and transforming in the heart of Jorrvaskr… Taking a deep breath, Sofja opened the door and entered the room. She saw Kodlak sitting in his usual chair at the table. He beckoned her to come closer.<p>

"I hear you've been busy as of late," Kodlak said as Sofja sat down across him. She blushed wildly, wondering what exactly he meant.

"You have taken on the change. Skjor lies dead, and Aela has run off. These are dark times." Kodlak's eyes were still kind, somehow. Sofja felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She didn't know what happened to Skjor.

"I did it for Vilkas," Sofja said, the words bursting out of her. "I thought he was—" Kodalk cut her off.

"I know what you did. It was with honor in your heart that you took on the transformation. It nearly killed you, but you did it with the intention of saving a life. This is as honorable an action as any a Companion may strive to take." Kodlak trailed off, lost in thought.

"But I know of the killings you and Aela carried out." He began again. "The Silver Hand is our enemy, but you have taken more lives than honor demanded. Your hearts are full of grief, and my own weeps at the loss of Skjor, but his death was avenged long ago. The cycle of retaliation may continue for some time." Kodlak went silent for a moment. It pained Sofja to think that she had caused so much trouble. "Even now, I worry for Aela, out in the wilderness, rage and despair burning in her animal heart." Sofja stared at the ground. She had made a mess of things alongside Aela, but now, she was the only one left to pick up the pieces. Hearing Kodlak's disappointment was almost too much to bear.

"She is lost, but she must be forgiven before the end, Sofja. Promise me this. When she returns, welcome her with open arms. You will need her. She will be cast away for a long time, long enough for her to understand herself and this place better."

Sofja simply nodded, looking into the old man's grayish eyes. She would not dare question Kodlak.

"In any case," he continued, "I have a task for you. Have you heard the story of how we came to be werewolves?"

Sofja nodded, pushing her red hair from her face. Vilkas had explained it to her once. "Vilkas said it was a curse laid upon the ancient Companions."

Kodlak nodded in affirmation. "The boy had a nugget of truth, but the reality is more complicated than that. It always is, isn't it? War, peace…love," Kodlak's eyes flickered at the last word. "They are all complicated things, but all necessary in the realm of living. Well, Vilkas' last mission retrieved some information deemed very useful. Something that will change the fate of the future of the Companions." Kodlak nodded to a letter that sat on the table next to him.

"Is there a cure?" Sofja asked quickly, the shock obvious in her voice. It would change everything, if they managed to find it.

"That's what I've spent my twilight years trying to find out. And now, I have finally done it, will a little help. Hundreds of years ago, the Harbinger of the Companions accepted Hircine's 'gift' from a coven of witches. The Glenmoril Witches, far to the west of here. Their magic ensnared us, and only their magic can release us. I want you to go to them, retrieve their heads, and return here. This is the first step in breaking this curse, and allowing us all to see the mists of Sovngarde once more."

Sofja stared at Kodlak, dumbfounded. She could not deny him, but this sounded like no easy task.

"Why me? Do I go alone? Is this some sort of punishment?"

"Easy, young one," Kodlak chuckled. "This is no punishment. I ask this of you because there is something special in you. I know I can trust you. Farkas and Vilkas, they are too burdened by their pasts. But you… I know that this task, only you can handle. I put much responsibility in your hands."

* * *

><p>Sofja left that very night, telling no one of her task. It was too serious, and it was not yet certain if the witches' heads would actually be of use. She was now as invested in the cure as everyone else in the Circle—she wanted to see Sovngarde, too.<p>

The task was a bloody one. In total, there were five witches, and Sofja hid in the shadows of their dark, musky cave, struggling with only her sword and shield to defeat them. There were skeevers, giant spiders, and creatures Sofja thought only existed in dark tales of old. The witches were difficult to defeat, and beheading them was even more problematic. It was as if there was some ancient magic in them, binding the head and body together, so that Sofja could hardly complete the task. Each time Sofja cleaved the head from the body, a rush of wind flew past her, like a release of magic. The heads didn't bleed, but they stunk wildly as Sofja threw them by the hair into the large sack she brought with her.

By the time the task was completed, it was the middle of the night. Instead of stopping to make camp, Sofja headed straight back to Jorrvaskr. She wanted to let Kodlak know she'd succeeded, and she didn't want to waste another minute—Vilkas needed to hear that there was truly some hope.

Walking towards Jorrvaskr, she noticed a large crowd standing at the bottom of the steps. Getting closer, she saw Torvar and Aela outside, their weapons at the ready, bodies littering the ground—none she recognized, much to her relief.

"What's going on here?" She demanded forcefully.

"The Silver Hand. They finally had the nerve to attack Jorrvaskr. We got most of them, but I think a few stragglers made it out. What's in there?" Tovar said pointing to the bag slung over her shoulder. Sofja's stomach dropped. She ignored him and pushed past them both, slamming open the doors and bounding inside. She looked around. There were bodies on the ground she recognized. People she knew. Before she could take another step, Vilkas descended upon her.

"Where have you been?" His tone was low, but one of utter disgust. Sofja had never seen him so angry in all her time with the Companions.

"I was doing Kodlak's bidding," Sofja said blankly, staring at the blood and gore that stained much of the room. People littered the ground—the dead, as well as the living that tended them. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

He crossed his arms, scoffing sarcastically at her. "I hope it was important, because it means you weren't here to defend him." Vilkas turned sideways to reveal what lay behind him: the limp body of Kodlak. He was gone.


	8. Chapter 8: The Loss

**Chapter VIII**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hey guys, long time no see! We're starting to get to the end here... Thanks for staying tuned!<strong>_

* * *

><p>Sofja stared at Kodlak's body, dumbfounded. Covered in blood, with his white hair framing his face, he somehow looked peaceful.<p>

"The Silver Hand, they finally found enough courage to attack Jorrvaskr. We fought them off, but…the old man…Kodlak…he's dead." Vilkas barely managed to say. Sofja gasped, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Kodlak was an incredible man, leader and Harbinger. Without him…she felt forsaken. But what she could not imagine was the pain Vilkas felt in losing a man he considered to be a father. The sorrow was visible in Vilkas' eyes, and Sofja reached out with her free hand towards him. He ignored the gesture, turning to gaze into the fire pit behind him.

"Was anyone else hurt?" She whispered, taking a step towards him, sensing how deeply his anger swelled.

"Nothing serious," he sneered, running his rough hands through his dark brown hair, "but they made off with all our fragments of Wuuthrad." His eyes were like two coals as they stood into the fire.

Sofja dropped the sack behind her and stood next to Vilkas. He turned even further towards the fire, his arms crossed defensively.

"Vilkas, I'm so sorry, I know what Kodlak meant to you—" Sofja began quietly, but Vilkas cut her off, his voice rising in fury.

"You have no idea what he meant to me! You will never understand! If you had been here, things could have been different… What 'business' could he have sent you off to, when things have been so difficult? We needed you here; any half-witted imp could've predicted that they would bring the battle here in a matter of time." The veins were popping out of his neck now, and Sofja felt numb. He continued. "I needed you! And now, we are without our Harbinger…and his only wish, to see the mist of Sovngarde, is crushed. Kodlak…" His voice lowered, and he dropped his head into his hands. Sofja touched his strong shoulder, but he shrugged out from under her touch.

"Let me stew. Alone," he growled ungraciously. Sofja backed away from him, shocked at the raw pain of his emotion as it was directed towards her. Grabbing the sack with the witch's heads, she headed down to the living quarters, leaving him standing alone by the fire. Kodlak had found the cure. She would find a way to finish out what he started, even if he could not live to see the Companion's salvation. If not, she wouldn't be able to live with herself.

* * *

><p>Sofja put the bag of the Glenmoril Witches heads in the closet next to the downstairs dining hall. It was beginning to smell oddly. Hopefully no one would notice until she figured out what to do with them. Falling onto the cot in her room, Sofja ran her fingers through her hair, but stiff knock at the door jolted her to her. "Come in," she uttered weakly.<p>

Vilkas walked in, slamming the door behind him. The sound of it shocked her.

"Come to yell some more, have you? Well, I—" Sofja began, sitting up.

"You and I are going to reclaim the fragments of Wuuthrad. We will bring battle to the chief Silver Hand Camp. We will take revenge for Kodlak, and there will be none left living to tell their stories." Vilkas smiled wickedly, but Sofja could only stare. He had a wild look in his eyes. "Only songs of Jorrvaskr will be sung. They will know terror before the end," he whispered, his fists tightening at his sides.

Sofja stood up, pulling her red hair into a braid down her chest, thinking of how to respond. He breathed heavily, waiting for Sofja to say something. Finally, she walked towards him, staring at his tired, widened eyes. "No," Sofja whispered, her light eyes filling with tears, "we will not." He met her gaze, a look of shock on his face.

"What? We need Wuuthrad! What do you mean we won't do it? We must." The fire was rising in Vilkas' throat, and she saw his eyes gleam yellow for a moment. She grabbed his shoulders.

"Kodlak would not want vengeance. Farkas and the others can retrieve the pieces, but there is too much anger in your heart to go, Vilkas." She looked pleadingly up at him.

He laughed cruelly, breaking Sofja's grip from his shoulders and pushing her so hard that she stumbled backwards, slamming into her cot. "How dare you speak to me of what Kodlak would have wanted. It's your fault he's dead!" Vilkas bellowed. Sofja narrowed her eyes at him.

"How could you say such a thing? You know that isn't true, Vilkas…" She stood up slowly, a little shaken from his violence. "Don't put your hands on me like that," Sofja whispered harshly after a moment, rubbing her arm where she had fallen into the wooden frame of the bed.

"You didn't seem to mind it the night you took the blood," Vilkas spat back at her, a cruel smirk on his lips. Sofja's face burned with embarrassment and excitement, and she couldn't control herself as she walked swiftly towards him, swinging her open palm at his face. She wanted to strangle him. The time they'd spent together that night was sacred to her; how could he say such things, even out of pain? Her head swam for a moment, her joints aching suddenly to shift.

Vilkas caught her hand, unlike the first time she slapped him. He was quivering.

"What are you doing?" Vilkas asked, sounding almost intrigued as he held her wrist tightly. Sofja licked her lips and instantly brought her knee up to Vilkas' groin, causing him to release her and double over in pain. Sofja took a few steps back, her eyes widening as he fell to his knees. Vilkas slowly looked up at her, his eyes flashing yellow. For once, Sofja was unafraid. If he made the change, so would she. They would fight, wolf against wolf. She appreciated his pain, but Vilkas needed to be brought back to reality. If it made him feel better to fight her, then so be it. Perhaps it would lessen his grief.

Jumping to his feet, Vilkas lunged forward at Sofja, tackling her to the ground next to her cot, knocking over the chair that sat to the left of it. She struggled as he attempted to pin her hands to the ground on either side of her head. The taste of blood spread over her tongue from some minor injury on her lip.

"That wasn't wise, princess," he growled throatily.

"Well, I don't know how else to make you see that your grief is blinding you." Sofja said quietly, beginning to feel claustrophobic under the weight of his body. He shook his head violently, his long, chocolate brown hair falling into his blackish eyes.

"No. If you and Aela had not gone on your spree of vengeance, your killing spree, they would not have retaliated so harshly. And Kodlak would still be alive now…and his one wish could have been realized. I'm not ready to finish this, not until you admit what you've done." Vilkas wanted Sofja to submit to him; he wanted to hear the words. He needed to find some explanation. Inside, Vilkas knew it was not Sofja's fault, but it did not ease the burning inferno in his heart.

"I was lost then, and I know that. But what will this accomplish? Nothing I say will change the past. You must accept that," she said seriously. She would not apologize. Sofja went off in the service of Kodlak, and she had atoned for the killings she committed in his name. Her strength was formidable, but there was only so much difference she could have made in the battle against the Silver Hand, even with her Dragonborn powers, which she hardly knew how to control. The way Sofja saw it, she was still doing Kodlak's work. Yes, his body was gone, but she would free all their spirits, somehow.

Vilkas' grip tightened around her wrists. He couldn't believe how she explained his death away. "No…" He said angrily. Sofja silently folded her thighs up to her stomach from beneath him. In one deft movement, she kicked her legs against Vilkas' chest, sending him flying backwards into the wooden divider that stood between the table and Sofja's bed.

Sofja sat up to see Vilkas leaning up against the wall, laughing. He rubbed his chest as she stood up, taking a defensive position once more. "No more of this, Vilkas." Vilkas rolled his eyes.

"All right, all right, I'm done," he said, raising his arms in surrender. Sofja approached him cautiously, offering a hand to help him stand up. He seemed as if he would reach up and take it, but a moment later, he swiped his leg against Sofja's ankles, sending her flying to the ground. Her head slammed against the wooden floor, and she stopped moving for a moment. A shot of fear stung through Vilkas' chest.

"Sofja…" He whispered urgently, crawling towards her. Her chest was heaving, more rapidly than seemed appropriate. Crawling over her, he saw her eyes were liquid gold. The beast blood was overtaking.

Grabbing her arms, he pulled her up into sitting position. "Sofja!" He called, hoping that the woman part of her would hear. "Sofja, I'm sorry… Sofja? Come back to me!" He shook her gently by the shoulders, and after what seemed like eternity, her eyes rolled back to their natural color, some mix of gray and green and blue. She registered her surroundings, and Sofja's countenance immediately turned stern. She bit her lip as it began to quiver. Was she going to cry? He reached out to rub her face, but before he could, Sofja slammed her fist into his cheek. Vilkas nearly fell over with the force of the hit.

"Who in Oblivion do you think you are…" She growled at him, rubbing the back of her head where it impacted the ground. He should have known better than to think she was about to cry; her lip quivering was a sign she was about to blow her top. Vilkas would take note of that, for future reference. If she would ever look at him again.

"How dare you act like this! Haven't you ever lost someone?" Sofja questioned bitterly, helping herself up. Crossing her arms, she waited for a reply. Vilkas shrugged, remaining sitting on the ground.

"I don't know, I just—" He began. She waved him off.

"I've lost more than you know. You know what I did? I bettered myself. There is a time for grief, but never a time for cruelty. Especially towards those you claim to care about. I loved him too, you know."

"Sofja, I'm sorry, I lost control but I—" He began again. Vilkas stood, walking towards her with arms outstretched, but she would not allow it.

"No one could have foreseen Kodlak's fate. Blame me if you must, but at the very least, carry yourself with dignity. As he would have wanted. As he always did," she said, her voice suddenly lowering to a softer and quieter tone at the last sentence. "He would be ashamed to see you like this." Vilkas' eyes widened. Sofja was right. Kodlak would be appalled to see him acting this way, especially towards someone he cared about so deeply. Looking up at her again, Vilkas noticed that Sofja's lip was bleeding. After a few moments, he reached out cautiously towards her.

"May I?" Vilkas whispered. Sofja looked at him skeptically, neither nodding nor shaking her head at him. He placed his left hand on the back of her neck, and with his right hand, ran his thumb across her bottom lip, smearing the red liquid away from it. The touch made her flinch, and a pang of shame shot through his body. He made her afraid. Sofja grabbed his wrists, stopping his finger from moving any further across her lip, and turned her face away from him. She was still angry. He did not let go of her, his left hand still grasping the back of her neck, with his right hand resting on her cheek.

"I…I did this." he remarked absent-mindedly. Vilkas drew her blood, and he was ashamed. Sofja nodded, rolling her eyes.

Gently, he brushed his lips against hers, tasting her blood on his tongue. It was an apology, and they both knew it wouldn't be enough. After a moment, Sofja tried to turn away from him. Vilkas still did not let her budge.

"I am so sorry…." He whispered as he leaned his forehead against her. He suddenly felt horrified by his actions, as if he'd finally woken up from some waking nightmare.

Sofja looked back at him, doubtful. "I'm tired, Vilkas," she whispered. Her voice suddenly sounded sad. "Get out. And if you ever lay a hand on me again, I will kill you."

Hanging his head, Vilkas left the room, and Sofja shut the door behind him. He was so ashamed. Why could he never do anything right? Why couldn't he just share his grief with Sofja, the only woman he'd ever truly loved? He cringed, realizing he may have lost her trust forever. He ran out of Jorrvaskr, needing the wolf blood like nothing he'd ever needed before. Damn the Nine.

Sofja stood in the center of her room, rubbing the tender part of her head that impacted the ground. It was beginning to swell. She fell into her cot, her eyes stinging with tears. Kodlak. She prayed to the Nine there could be some way to give him his wish, or at least provide it to Vilkas and the other Companions. She had never seen Vilkas as distressed as he was tonight, and she didn't know how they could go on.

Sofja knew what she had to do. She had to find Farkas.

* * *

><p>Sofja explained to Farkas and Aela what they must do that night. With the death of Kodlak, every one of the Companions were ready to act in his name—even Aela. Sofja laid the plan out before them: they would go to the chief camp of the Silver Hand, retrieve the Wuuthrad pieces, and return. Vengeance would not be had. Farkas promised to keep Aela in check, and killing was the very last resort.<p>

The evening was a long one as Sofja alone waited for their siblings to come back. Vilkas had run off into the black of the woods; she could hear mournful howls through the night, and it felt like a dagger to her heart. Jorrvaskr was in complete chaos as the dead and injured were being tended to; somehow, the others looked to Sofja for leadership. Although only a Companion for a handful of months, she was the only member of the Circle still there, and those around her viewed her with respect. Sofja's eyes grew heavy as she paced the main hall of Jorrvaskr; she couldn't bear the thought of sleeping while so much was at stake. Success was the only option.

It was in the early morning, before the sun had come up, when they finally returned. The pieces of Wuuthrad had been retrieved, with almost no bloodshed. Aela had managed to control herself. They gave the pieces immediately to Eorlund so that he might reconstruct the ancient axe, and all would be as it was before—except for Kodlak. He could never be replaced.

* * *

><p>At sun down that night, they held the ceremony to honor Kodlak's spirit. The Companions and others who knew Kodlak joined above the Underforge to pay respects as the Harbinger's body was set to fire. Each member of the Circle tried to ignore the fact that his spirit now belonged to Hircine. Everyone except for Vilkas, that is. Sofja was beginning to worry—he had never returned after running off.<p>

"Who will start?" Eorlund asked.

"I'll do it," Aela said softly. "Before the ancient flame…"

"We grieve," the rest replied.

"At this loss…" Eorlund continued.

"We weep," the rest replied.

"For the fallen…" Farkas said shakily.

"We shout," the rest replied.

"And for ourselves…" Sofja replied, just above a whisper.

"We take our leave," the rest replied. Farkas slowly lowered a torch onto the wooden platform upon which Kodlak's body rested. It erupted into flames. All watched and none spoke. Sofja took a few steps towards the pyre, staring into the flames.

She was beginning to wonder what she could have done to prevent this. Maybe if she hadn't taken up arms against the Silver Hand, everything would be as it was before... Maybe she should have never tangled with the Companions. Looking sideways, Sofja saw Farkas and Aela, and the others behind them.

_No… Kodlak would laugh at me for thinking this way. _If she had never joined the Companion, she would not be the woman she had become. And Sofja had come so far from the fearful, waif-like creature she was when she first arrived. But right now, she worried for Vilkas. As the service ended, those who had attended pushed past her to leave the Skyforge, content to continue on with their lives. Sofja looked down, closing her eyes. She had to find Vilkas. Suddenly, she felt a firm hand on her shoulder. It was Eorlund.

"Sofja, I have a favor to ask of you," he said, his voice low and kind. "There is one piece of Wuuthrad that Kodlak kept near to him always. I believe it's in his quarters. Would you retrieve it for me? I don't feel I'm the right person to go through his things."

Sofja nodded. She wasn't sure she was the right person either, but she was in no position to question Eorlund. Walking into Kodlak's waiting room, she ran her fingers along the wooden chair that he often sat in. This was where he sat when Sofja first requested to join the Companions. Vilkas was with him, too. She smiled at the memory. He was so welcoming, as he always had been, while Vilkas was cold and untrusting. If only she could have known then what was in store… With a sigh, she turned to the large, wooden doors which led to his bedroom. Taking a deep breath, Sofja pulled them open.

The room was not very grand, but it was fitting for a man who lived a humble, honorable life. Paintings of the wilderness decorated the walls, and books sat everywhere, worn and torn as if he read all of them once a day. Turning to the nightstand next to the bed, she opened the drawer. There, sitting so casually, was a large piece of Wuuthrad. She recognized its dull, black gleam. Sofja picked it up, turned it over and over again in her fingers, and put it warily in her pocket. Beneath it was a small, leather bound book. Silently, she picked it up, flipping to a random page.

_Vilkas seemed most troubled,_ it began. _The boy is as fierce as a sabre cat in battle, but his heart's fire burns too brightly at times._ Sofja smiled to herself. This much was true. She continued reading. _He felt deceived, and I don't blame him. Farkas didn't know what to think, but I believe he will come around with me and his brother eventually._ So this was… Kodlak's journal? She considered shutting it and hiding it away for a moment. But she wanted to read Kodlak's words. It was almost the same as hearing his voice. Here, the old Harbinger must have been discussing the discovery of the beast blood as a curse of Hircine. Sofja flipped to another page.

_…__And sure enough, from the shadows, the one from my dream appeared, asking to join the Companions. I asked Vilkas to test her. She called herself Sofja._ Sofja gasped. The one from his dreams? She read on quickly.

_I have grown old enough to know that I must heed the few dreams I have, especially ones that pertain to the present and future of the Companions. I saw her and myself at the gates of Sovngarde in this vision, and when Hircine's wolf approached, instead of surrender, she and I gave fight. I can only pretend to know the meaning of this, but it must be of some import, as it remains as vividly in my mind as any person stands before my eyes._ Sofja's expression grew grave. What did it mean? She could ask Kodlak no longer, and even then, he wouldn't know. She flipped again.

_Unfortunately, Sofja and I have not had much cause to speak. This saddens me greatly, as I believe she is the one who will follow in my footsteps as Harbinger. I hope to spend the next few years imparting the Harbinger's wisdom upon her, so that by the time I am ready to depart from this world, she will be ready to lead the Companions into a new phase of glory. Aela is too solitary, Vilkas is too fiery and Farkas is too kind-hearted. Sofja will be the one. She must be. Vilkas will guide her. He does not wish to be Harbinger, but he knows much, and I know he will provide a true heart in times of trouble, even if his heart beats too strongly sometimes. Vilkas has come to me on more than one occasion to speak of this Sofja to me, and I fear the worst—that tyrant king known as love._ Sofja stopped reading, looking up at the ceiling. An acute and painful sadness washed over her. Love?

_He is naturally a man of many thoughts and few words, so he speaks little of his feelings. But he has told me he loves her, and I see a different fire burning in him as of late. He will struggle, and his stubbornness may cause him to lose her, but I sense with time he—"_

Sofja shut the book. Her face burned red as she replaced it in the drawer where she first found it. It was almost too much to comprehend.

* * *

><p>In ten minutes' time, she returned to Eorlund, shaking away Kodlak's words. Eorland instructed her to head to the Underforge, where the other members of the Circle had gathered.<p>

Upon entering, she heard Farkas and Aela in the middle of a debate.

"The old man had one wish before he died. And he didn't get it. It's as simple as that," Farkas said in his low, quiet tone, glancing over a Sofja quickly. He leaned against the cave wall, the veins in his massive arms rippling in flickering fire light.

"Being moon-born is not so much of a curse as you might think," Aela snapped back, tossing her auburn hair. How many times had they had this debate? Sofja looked between the two of them pleadingly.

"That's fine for you. But he wanted to be clean. He wanted to meet Ysgramor and know the glories of Sovngarde. And all that was taken from him," Farkas said nonchalantly. How did he sound so calm?

"Well, we did vengeance enough by retrieving Wuuthrad." Aela replied, staring into the blood basin. Sofja couldn't take anymore arguing.

"We should be honoring Kodlak, no matter our own thoughts on the blood," Sofja shouted forcefully, even surprising herself. The other two members of the Circle stared at her silently. They all realized the truth of the words she spoke.

"We are all who remain," she said slowly, staring between the two of them.

"Where is Vilkas?" Aela said suspiciously.

"His grief overtakes him. But we cannot let it take us." Sofja replied, her light eyes gazing into the fire.

Suddenly, Eorlund entered the Underforge, a large axe on his back. Aela gasped.

"Is that…"

"Wuuthrad," Eorlund replied proudly. "It's finally constructed as it was meant to be, as it was when Ysgramor wielded it." He approached Sofja, handing the ancient weapon to her. She imagined it would be as heavy as Orichalcum, but it felt light as a feather.

"Why me?" She asked, staring at the weapon in her hands.

"Because you gave me the final piece. It is what Kodlak would have wanted," Eorlund said, smiling. He turned to the rest of the Circle.

"Go to Ysgramor's Tomb. There you can call upon the spirits of Harbinger's past. You can speak to Kodlak's soul, and find out what must be done to free him, and the others, from Hircine's grip."

Sofja stared at him in amazement. "Such a thing is possible?"

"Of course!" Farkas bellowed. "We can talk to Kodlak there... How did we not think of this before?"

Aela nodded. "But what of Vilkas?"

"He will either see the error of his ways, or he will be lost to us forever," Sofja said with a hollow tone. Aela's eyes widened at her indifference. "But that doesn't matter now. It's time to free Kodlak."


	9. Chapter 9: The Race

**Chapter IX**

* * *

><p><em><strong>So close to the end, guys...! Happy Holidays!<strong>_

* * *

><p>Vilkas opened his eyes, completely disoriented. <em>Where am I, and why is my head pounding…?<em> With a grimace on his face, he turned his head, trying to get his eyes to adjust to their surroundings. It was twilight, and he was lying flat on his back in the snow, surrounded by woods. Looking down at himself, he was completely naked. _Great._

It must have been another difficult transformation. Sighing, Vilkas closed his eyes again. He shouldn't have run from Jorrvaskr like that. But at the same time... He couldn't make himself get up. Where would he go? Back there, where Kodlak was dead and Sofja was too let down to even look at him? As the snow made his skin turn numb, he imagined what Kodlak would say to him.

_It is not too late to return,_ he would say. _You have let your fire and stubbornness guide you, but you must dig deeply, and listen to what your heart says. All is not lost._

Imagining his words were not enough. He was gone, and nothing could change that. Vilkas shuddered, allowing the cold to overtake him. After a few moments, Vilkas felt as if he was drifting off to sleep again. His breathing evened out, and where his body was numb, he began to feel warm.

"Go to her," Kodlak's voice said. "I will see the mists of Sovngarde, but before the end, you must go to her. She needs you, or she will join me in Hircine's hunting grounds."

Vilkas sat up quickly, blinking a few times as his heart suddenly raced. He'd never felt so alive. He swore he'd heard the old Harbinger's voice.

"Kodlak?!" He bellowed into the evening air, which was growing darker by the second. Vilkas was only met with the sound of the wilderness. He smiled weakly. He could feel Kodlak there with him. And Vilkas knew he could waste no more time. Standing up, he let the wolf rip through him once more, and ran back west—towards Jorrvaskr.

Within the hour, he'd arrived, and made sure to change back to his human form before entering Whiterun. It was nighttime, although that was no excuse for him to run naked through the streets. He didn't care—he needed to make things right. And if it truly was Kodlak speaking to him, then Sofja's life was in danger. There wasn't time.

Slamming through the doors, his muscles rippling, Vilkas looked around. "Where is Sofja, and the others?" He snarled.

The only one there was Njada, a newer recruit. Her eyes widened so much, Vilkas thought they might pop out of her head. "I… I…" She stammered. Vilkas shook his head, quickly running down to the living quarters. "Why are you in the nude?" She called after him, but he barely heard. He needed to find out where Sofja had gone, and he needed to get there as soon as possible.

* * *

><p>Sofja, along with Farkas and Aela, arrived at the tomb that very night, well-rested and jittering with anticipation. The entrance was below ground, and the door looked as if it had not been opened in centuries. Farkas pushed hard against it and it seemed to give way easily, although Sofja just assumed it was his brawn giving that impression. They cautiously moved forward. Cobwebs swayed in the stale air of the cavity, which led downwards towards a room that was somehow lit with torches. But who had lit them?<p>

Sofja opened her mouth to ask, but thought better of it and held her tongue. It was the great tomb of Ysgramor; much was possible. The three Companions closed in around what appeared to be a tall statue of Ysgramor himself. His arms were outstretched, one higher than the other, as if he was holding something. Sofja hoisted herself gingerly up onto the pedestal where the likeness of Ysgramor stood. Carefully, she pulled Wuuthrad from her back and wedged it slowly into the stone hands of the hero. She heard a gasp from behind—it was Aela.

"What in the name of—" she began, but Sofja ignored her. Wuuthrad slid easily into place, and when she could no longer move the giant weapon, the sound of stone could be heard moving about the room. So it was some sort of key. A stone passage revealed itself, and Sofja felt a wave of excitement, mixed with unadulterated fear. Somehow she knew what to do and where to go, as if she had been here before.

As she stepped down from the statue, she felt a grip on her shoulder; it was Aela. Sofja turned and caught her steady gaze. There was something unreadable in the way Aela was looking at her. It was unsettling, and she couldn't understand what she meant by it. Finally, she spoke.

"Sofja… You and I have had our differences, but it did not stop you from allowing me to come home. I will be forever grateful for that… So please be careful," she said in a low tone, her greenish eyes flashing with something Sofja had never seen before: shame.

Her tone of voice confused Sofja. "Are you not coming?" She whispered.

Aela shook her head. "It wouldn't be right… This is the resting place of Ysgramor and his most trusted generals. Only the finest warriors rest here, and as one who embraces the beast blood so openly, well… I feel ashamed to enter inside among them, whether they took the blood willingly or not. I cannot do it. You and Farkas will have to continue on alone." Her gaze fell to the ground. "Please understand."

"This is a brave thing you are doing, Aela," she said softly, a smile tugging at her lips. Aela scoffed, rolling his eyes as she crossed her arms.

"Oh yes, so brave to stay behind, to—" She began sarcastically. Sofja cut her off.

"To admit weakness. Anyone can forge battle. Any self-righteous, overconfident oaf can take an axe in hand and charge on the enemy. And he would fail. But it takes a true warrior to know when he must say no, to know the moment when he must stop pushing himself so hard. Kodlak would have been proud of you."

Aela's eyes softened. "Maybe he would be… You sound like him, you know." They both paused, feeling awkward; they'd never gotten along so well before. Aela cleared her throat. "All right, so why don't you shut up already and get going?" Sofja smiled.

"It's time, Farkas" Sofja called out. "Still have the sack?"

Farkas smiled at her. "Yup. Just like old times, eh Sofja?"

* * *

><p>Farkas and Sofja stuck close together, as they did at Dustman's Cairn, when Sofja first came to the Companions. Both she and Farkas were tested as the ghosts of Harbinger's past challenged them at almost every turn. Although they took a few hits, Sofja and Farkas held their own against them, even with Farkas carrying the sack of Glenmoril witch heads. She wasn't sure how they could use them, but she knew that she wasn't going to take a chance on leaving them behind at Jorrvaskr.<p>

Heading down a long corridor, Sofja came upon two large, wooden doors. "Who knows what we'll find behind them. Are you ready?" She asked Farkas.

"Born that way," he said with a sly smile, his dark eyes glittering.

Flinging open the doors, Sofja's eyes widened—the entire room was covered in webs. She shot a look back at Farkas and saw the disgust on his face. He nodded to signal that they should continue on, and Sofja took a deep breath, pushing the stray red hairs out of her face, before slowly walking into the large, cobwebbed hall. Corpses and other objects littered the floor, seemingly wrapped up in webs.

Out of nowhere, three massive frostbite spiders dropped from the ceiling. Sofja grabbed her sword and began hacking away at one, assuming Farkas was doing the same. But all of the sudden she heard him cry out, and turning around swiftly, she saw Farkas lying on the ground, with a spider hovering over him.

"Farkas! Get up!" She bellowed, still trying to hold off the other two, but he didn't move. Sofja nearly gagged as the spider moved over him, beginning to wrap his legs up in webs. She had to do something. Sofja took a final slash at the two spiders in front of her before turning on her heel, running and leaping onto the spider's back that hovered over her shield-brother. It thrashed, leaving Farkas alone for a moment. As Sofja sunk her blade into its head, she felt a sharp, searing pain in her back. Without warning, she was lifted up into the air, and looking down at her chest, she could see the bottom of a spider's leg poking out just below her shoulder. It stabbed her clean through the chest with extreme precision—exactly between her cuirass and her shoulder guard. The sight made her woozy, and she was flung to the ground, blood gushing from her chest.

As the two spiders approached Sofja, she knew what she had to do. Thinking of the few shouts she had learned, she screamed at the spider on the left, sending him flying against the wall with a "_Fus Roh Dah!"_ The spider was crushed instantly. One was taken care of, although she was too exhausted to shout again... Thinking quickly on her feet, she knew what option was left. Closing her eyes, suddenly a warmth come over her. In a minute, her limbs began popping and shifting, and she gritted her teeth as her body took on the change, for once willingly. Within a few moments, her armor had fallen away from her to reveal her new form—a lean, sand-colored wolf. Sofja had never allowed the change to overtake her fully before, but now, she never felt stronger. After being injured so seriously in her human form, it seemed to be her last chance. Standing on her hind legs, she howled charging at her foe. In ten minutes time, she'd ripped it to shreds, reveling in the bloodshed.

When both spiders were vanquished, Sofja laid on the ground, her wolf body spattered with the blood of those she'd just killed. She twitched in pain, howling softly as her body rearranged itself, leaving her heaving naked on the ground. Her breasts, arms and stomach were stained with blood, and there was still a gaping hole from where she'd been stabbed by the spider.

But she knew she couldn't quit. After a few minutes of rest, Sofja forced herself to her feet and slowly put her armor back on. Then, she ran towards Farkas.

"Hey, hey…wake up…" She whispered, leaning next to him. The pain in her chest was searing. Farkas was out cold. Sofja began to feel panicked, quickly looking up towards the ceiling to see if there were any more spiders or nests. From what she could see, there were none. She stood up, grabbing Farkas by this ankles, and slowly dragged him towards the door they entered through. Sofja fought back tears, her shoulder feeling as if it was going to fall apart. All she knew was that she ha to get him out of there.

Once Farkas was safely shoved into the corner, Sofja took a moment to breathe. She somehow had to continue fighting, while lugging the sack of heads with her, while there was a hole in her chest. She still could not give up. "Guide me, Kodlak…" She whispered, grabbing the sack and dragging it behind her. The end was near—either of the journey, or of her life.

* * *

><p>Thankfully, there wasn't much left for Sofja to face alone. By the looks of it, the next chamber was the burial chamber of Ysgramor's tomb. She struggled inside, dropping the sack behind her. Looking around, she could hardly believe she'd made it. Falling to her knees, Sofja suddenly heard a familiar voice.<p>

"My child, what business do you have here?" Looking up in shock, she met eyes with Kodlak. Only it wasn't Kodlak—it was an apparition. His skin was icy blue, and his eyes were almost transparent.

"Kodlak..." Sofja whispered, barely managing to rise to her feet. She was extremely pale, especially in comparison to her fiery red hair. "I've come to free you."

He smiled, his old eyes still kind, even in death. "Have you now?" He motioned around him. "The other Harbingers and I welcome you." Sofja frowned...who was he referring to? She only saw him... But perhaps there was more to the tomb than met the eye. "Have you brought the witch heads?" He asked softly. Sofja nodded quickly, her head feeling woozy.

"Throw one into the fire. It will release me...but take warning, you will have to face the wolf within me. And the other Companions are still slave to the wolves within them as well. The process will have to be repeated if any of them wish to save their souls from the grounds of Hircine."

She nodded, her vision starting to become blurry. _So this is what he discovered from the College of Winterhold. The curse was finally solved._

"My child...you are unwell—" Kodlak began, but before he could finish, Sofja reached into the sack and lobbed a head into the flaming cistern. "For your soul, Kodlak!" She screamed. She wouldn't wait any longer...she was close to bleeding out as it was.

Suddenly, the entire tomb began vibrating. The ghost of Kodlak disappeared, and in its place, a massive wolf stood, glowing red. It was frothing at the mouth, and three times the size of a normal wolf, or werewolf, for that matter.

Sofja planted her feet firmly on the ground. _All I have to do is defeat this wolf. If I die, so be it. As long as Kodlak's free, and Vilkas has a chance at a life without the blood._ The wolf was snarling, but it hadn't moved yet. Sofja wanted to say a quick prayer to the Nine...but her thoughts kept drifting back to Vilkas—so she prayed to him instead.

_Please be safe, Vilkas. Feel no guilt. I'm doing this so you don't have to. Kodlak will see Sovngarde, and I hope I will see you there too, if you give me the chance, as I'm giving Kodlak. I love you._

Suddenly, the wolf leapt through the air, and Sofja charged at it. She managed to slice through its left leg, but it seemed to do very little. In the meantime, Sofja had been knocked onto her back. As the wolf charged at her again, she rolled to the left, quickly jutting her sword into its back. She missed by an inch, and the wolf again turned towards her, planning its next move.

Sofja tried to stand—but her legs gave out. A streak of panic shot through her. Everything was going gray. The wound in her chest had been bleeding nonstop, and it was finally catching up with her. She fell onto her back once again, and the wolf approached her slowly, smelling the death that was overtaking her. _Perhaps death wouldn't be so bad, _she thought. _Perhaps I will find a little bit of peace, even if I am a slave to Hircine._

Closing her eyes, she felt the wolf hovering over her. And suddenly, everything went dark.


	10. Chapter 10: The Heartbreak

**Chapter X**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Long time, no see guys! There's only one more chapter left... -Sass<em>**

* * *

><p>Vilkas rode on horseback as fast as he could towards the Tomb of Ysgramor. Luckily, Torvar had overheard where the Circle was headed, and mentioned it to Vilkas in passing while he was at Jorrvaskr preparing to search for Sofja. In less than half an hour, Vilkas had suited up for battle and rode after Sofja, Aela and his brother. He could have run in his wolf form, but... It didn't seem right when he was going to help them all free Kodlak from the wolf blood itself. He took the fastest steed the Companion's owned, Kodlak's Horse named Sif. He'd let the blood overtake him enough times... Not tonight.<p>

Once he'd arrived, the horse had barely stopped trotting before he launched himself to the ground, running for the tomb. Vilkas tore down the stairs, his wolf armor gleaming dimly in the moonlight, and almost smashed face-first into Aela, who was pacing in the outer chamber where Sofja and Farkas had left her. Running into each other, both Vilkas and Aela steadied themselves, nearly tumbling to the ground.

"By the Nine... Vilkas, what are you doing here?" Aela said with alarm.

"I came to do my duty to the Circle. But I could ask you the same question. Why are you still here in the outer chamber? Torvar told me the Circle had departed hours ago," he said, his dark eyes gleaming with worry. "You didn't descend with Sofja and Farkas?"

Aela looked the ground, shame in her greenish eyes. "I...could not do it. It did not seem right when I continue to make the change with so little guilt. But I also could not leave, in case I was needed... So here I wait."

Vilkas nodded his head slightly, understanding. He almost had not come either. "So they haven't returned. How long ago did the two of them enter into the ruins?"

Aela crossed her arms, thinking for a moment. "Too long for capable warriors such as them. It's been a few hours, by now." Vilkas frowned at her. "Kodlak told me of this place once... It's not a huge tomb, although some of the corridors are complicated to maneuver and sunken into ruin. Still, if all went well, they would have returned by now. Do you think...is it too soon to fear the worst, and to go in after them?"

Vilkas shook his head. "Let's not waste another moment. I will no longer cower and hide from my responsibilities... We are the Circle, and we are all that's left until we find them. We must take care of each other, as Kodlak would have expected."

Aela nodded, smirking at him. "Now that's what I like to hear. It's about time you stopped acting like milksop," she said, and Vilkas rolled his eyes. "Let's go!"

* * *

><p>The path was mostly clear where Sofja and Farkas had fought through earlier. Aela and Vilkas had little trouble following in their footsteps. "They must have done well up to this point," Aela said quietly. "We are lucky there are so few spirits left to test us. The rest must have gone." Vilkas nodded, a small wave of hope surging up through him. <em>Was it too much to think that everything would turn out all right in the end? <em>He grunted with annoyance. There was no time for hope—they had to be on their guard. He couldn't let his mind wander too far ahead; who knew what would happen.

"Vilkas!" Aela suddenly yelled as she ran ahead of him, calling his senses to attention. "I've found Farkas!"

Vilkas' hairs stood on end. Looking up the darkened hall where Aela knelt, he could see the limp body of his brother, his feet sticking out from the corner where he lay. He was surprised Aela had seen him; he could hardly make him out in the shadows. "Is he..?" Vilkas barely managed to say, approaching slowly.

"He seems fine, just unconscious. Looks like he took a hard blow to the head," she said, brushing the hairs from Farkas' face. If she didn't know better, she'd almost think he was sleeping. "It takes a lot to take a man as big as Farkas down. We better stay on our guard."

"We have to keep moving," Vilkas said sternly, pressing ahead into a massive chamber covered in webs. If Farkas was here, then where...

Aela stood up quickly, grabbing Vilkas' shoulder with some force before he passed through the doorway completely. "Stop."

Vilkas growled angrily, turning back towards her. "What do you mean 'stop'? If Farkas is here, then Sofja—"

"First of all, do you think we should just be leaving him here unconscious?" She motioned down to Farkas. "And another thing, do you not smell that, Vilkas? There's blood spilled up ahead, and lots of it." Vilkas' eyes widened in terror. _So sweet...it had to be hers_.

Vilkas wanted to rip her throat out for even saying it, but Aela was right. "Well, what do you propose, that one of us stay here with him? He's been here this whole time as it was, well-concealed in this little corner," he snarled, his black eyes gleaming with annoyance. In fact, Farkas was extremely well-concealed... As if someone placed him there for his own safety? _Sofja?_ Aela rolled her eyes at his ungracious tone.

"I think one of us should stay, just in case. You're his brother, and I don't trust you not to lose your head in case something happened to Sofja," Aela said warily, staring into his eyes with a strange look of sympathy.

Vilkas would not hear another word. But instead of yelling, or threatening, or fighting back the wolf blood as he lost his temper, all he could do was plead with her quietly. "Aela, you must understand... I must atone for all the wrong I've done. Sofja may be lost forever, and I will never forgive myself if I cannot try to find her." He swallowed hard at the words. "So please, stay with my brother until I can bring her back safely. I need to do this. To prove... I am more a man than I am a beast." Vilkas said finally, his voice thick with emotion.

Surprisingly, Aela nodded. "Fine. But don't take long. You know I hate missing anything exciting," she smirked. He nodded, a small smile on his face.

* * *

><p>Leaving Aela behind, Vilkas entered the spider's chamber. It was a disgusting sight to behold, and he kept his right hand on the hilt of his sword, just in case. He didn't have to walk far before coming upon the corpses of three massive Frostbite spiders, and a pool of blood in the middle of them. Breathing deeply, Vilkas could tell—this is where Sofja spilled her blood. And much of it, too. She had to have taken a massive injury.<p>

"Well, there was certainly a struggle here..." Vilkas said to himself, bending down to dip a finger in one of the bloody puddles. _But no body—and that was a good sign still._

Moving across the room, he came upon a massive set of carved doors. The scene upon them was one of Ysgramor overcoming a massive horde of enemies. Vilkas took a deep breath and slowly pushed them open. The next room was even larger than the one he left, covered in torches, old treasures and coffins of past harbingers. In the flickering shadows, Vilkas spotted a figure on the ground. His body seemed to understand before his mind did, and he suddenly found himself sprinting. It was her.

"Sofja, Sofja..." He said frantically as he fell to his knees, cradling her pale, stiff body in his arms. _"_Sofja, wake up...please, for the love of the Nine, wake up..." Vilkas rocked her body back and forth as he knelt on the ground, holding her head to his lips, letting his mouth run over the strands of her fiery red hair. She was as pale as he'd ever seen her, with a bloody hole in her chest. _Any moment now. Any moment she'll wake._

"Vilkas..." Sofja finally said, her voice sounding weak and far away. His heart swelled, triumphant, and he sat up to gaze upon her face. But looking down, Vilkas saw her eyes were still closed. And upon closer inspection... she wasn't breathing.

"Sofja?!" He bellowed, confusion and panic overtaking him. He shook her a little.

"I'm...here." She said again with hesitation, her lips unmoving. _Was this some trick?_ But then he realized...the voice came from behind him. Vilkas' stomach dropped and his limbs went cold. Carefully, in a daze, he lowered Sofja's body back to the ground, then stood. Breathing shallowly, he turned around towards the back of the tomb, where hundreds of coffins stood in their alcoves, seeming to dance in the torch light. Ten feet in front of him stood an altar lit by candles, and near the altar stood Sofja. But it wasn't Sofja... She was translucent and pale, her skin white as snow, and there was a strange aura about her.

"Sofja?" He barely managed to say, his voice catching in his throat. "What is this?"

"Vilkas..." She sighed sorrowfully. "You came."

"Of course...of course I came. But I don't understand..." What did this mean? He looked down at her limp body again, his mind going blank.

"Farkas and I came alone," she began, cautiously approaching him from the raised altar area. She almost seemed to float. "He was knocked out by one of the spiders... I managed to kill them, but one stabbed me through the shoulder. The injury was...very bad."

"No...no...no..." Vilkas began whispering, stepping backwards away from her. He was suddenly struck with a feeling of terror that he'd never experienced so strongly in his life.

"I pushed on, and spoke with Kodlak. He told me what to do, and I threw one of the witches' heads into the fire, there," she continued, her voice breaking with emotion as her strange, translucent hand pointed to a flaming cistern. Vilkas' eyes welled with tears.

"No..."

"Kodlak's wolf spirit came after me, and I tried my best to defeat it, I truly did..." Sofja was crying now, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Sofja, don't..." Vilkas begged her, falling to his knees near her body, tears running down his cheeks. He cradled his head in his hands.

"But I wasn't strong enough..." She said, leaning down to her knees in front of him. "I... I didn't make it."

The words hit Vilkas like a ragged knife. His body went rigid, his skin went numb. He looked over to her body, all pale, dirty and bloodstained. All he could think about was how he wanted to die more than anything. He had failed her.

"Please," Sofja's spirit whispered between tears, looking down at her weak, defeated body, "there was nothing you could do." He finally looked up at her. It was almost as if he could see through her. She was more beautiful and ethereal than he'd ever seen her. Reaching up, Vilkas tried to rest his hand on Sofja's cheek. However, his fingers melted right through her, and a cold, tingling sensation overtook him. He shuddered with disdain for himself.

"You're gone, and I wasn't here to defend you," Vilkas managed to say through gritted teeth, his hands clenching into fists. Sofja, in her ghostly form, shook her head. "Please, no—"

He suddenly interrupted. "This can't be... I don't understand... How...h-how can I even see you? I thought only past Harbingers could find comfort here."

"You see her, lad, because she was to be the next Harbinger, although it was unannounced before my death." Vilkas whirled around, still on his knees. A few feet away, he saw Kodlak standing, looking the same as Sofja's spirit; pale and almost translucent. Vilkas thought he was going to pass out.

"The next Harbinger..." Vilkas whispered, holding his tear-stained face in his hands once more.

"Indeed it is so," Kodlak continued. "The arrangements were all made, the ceremony prepared by Eorlund. Alas, things did not go as planned..."

_This is a dream. I'm still in the woods and this is all a dream. I'll wake up soon, and all will be as it was before, _he thought. Or wished.

Kodlak's ghost circled around where Vilkas knelt and where Sofja's body had fallen. He stood next to her spirit, watching Vilkas with a pained expression. "Though the ceremony was not completed, Sofja's pure heart ordained her the next lawful harbinger. Of all, she was most worthy." Kodlak paused for a moment, before starting again in a quieter tone. "Vilkas... I know your heart is heavy. And if you cannot bear to do battle, I will understand..."

Vilkas swallowed hard. "No, I must...defeat the spirits within you both." He said flatly.

"Vilkas—" Sofja began, but before she could say another word, he got to his feet, pulling his sword from its hilt. "Sofja, please don't worry, I will do it. Tell me what to do," he said firmly, staring at them.

"My wolf spirit has been summoned once tonight, so all you must do is call it forth again. To summon Sofja's, however, you must throw another witch's head into the fire. They are not easy foes, but do not fear; I sense you will not be alone in this battle."

Vilkas shot Kodlak a confused look, but within a few moments, Aela and Farkas came rushing into the cavernous room. "He woke," Aela said between breaths. "We came as soon as he was feeling—" She suddenly stopped upon seeing Kodlak and Sofja's ghosts, and looked down by Vilkas' feet to see Sofja's cold, pale body.

"Gods..." Aela whispered. Farkas' eyes widened, having as much difficulty understanding what had happened as Vilkas.

"We need to defeat the wolf spirits within them both...if they are to see Sovngarde." Vilkas said just above a whisper. Both Aela and Farkas gaped at what it meant: _Sofja was dead, with Kodlak. _All they could do was nod in affirmation. Grudgingly, Vilkas approached the sack of witches' heads, which only sat a few feet away from where he stood. He reached his hand into the foul-smelling pile, grabbing one by the hair. Walking towards the cistern, he waited a moment, feeling Sofja's spirit standing next to him suddenly.

"I have loved you from the moment you tackled me down the stairs at Jorrvaskr," he said without looking at her, hoping the others wouldn't hear. "And I will love you for as long as I draw breath. Perhaps longer." Vilkas turned to look at her finally, fighting the urge to try and touch her again. "I will hold you once more," he promised.

"I will always be with you," she whispered back, her eyes for a moment almost gleaming that grayish-green he recognized. "I'm sorry I couldn't be stronger... But there will be another harbinger, and the world will go on. You will never be alone."

Suddenly, a massive, bellowing voice ripped through the large room, causing the walls to shake. "There will not be another harbinger," it echoed. Vilkas nearly tumbled over, and Aela and Farkas toppled to the ground.

"What was that?!" Farkas yelled.

As the room stopped shaking, both the living and the dead turned towards the altar area once more, where a shadowy figure sat in a throne. It was a massive, hulking spirit of man, and when it rose to its feet, it was almost eight feet tall. "Not what, but who," the spirit said, walking forward. Wuuthrad glinted dully in the light of the candles and torches as it hung from the spirit's back. Vilkas' eyes widened. Could it be..?

"I am Ysgramor, and I have heard you speak long enough. I have come to tell you that there will be no new harbinger." His beard hung down his chest, and he wore a horned helmet, just like in the stories of old.

Aela struggled to her knees, in awe of the great Companion who stood before them. "Why will there be no new harbinger? Are you saying that the Companions are done for?"

"No," he bellowed, laughing heartily. "There will be no new harbinger because I will return to you one of your fallen comrades. But you must heed my words well."

Vilkas held his breath, feeling as if the air had been knocked out of him. _He will return __one of our fallen... Either Sofja or Kodlak. But not both._


	11. Chapter 11: The Return

**Chapter XI**

* * *

><p><em>Sorry for the long wait, and thank you to everyone who stuck around and loved this story! Keep an eye out for the epilogue to tie up all the loose ends, it was one of my favorite parts to write! :) -Sass<em>

* * *

><p>Vilkas stood silently for a few moments, dumbfounded. He was almost certain this was a dream. His dark eyes moved from Sofja to Kodlak, and then back to the great Ysgramor.<p>

"I don't understand…" He finally said. One could be returned? How was this even possible?

The spirit of Ysgramor pulled Wuuthrad from his back as he descended the steps of the altar towards where they all were gathered. Although it was a massive weapon, he handled it as lightly as one might hold a feather.

"You will take this weapon and defeat those dastardly wolves," Ysgramor said, a grim look on his face. "Once this is completed, I will use the power of Wuuthrad to restore the spirit of one of your fallen. It was been done in the past, but it will not be simple, and whoever you choose will go through a great ordeal to return to you and their mortal coil. They will be very weak. However… My strength will allow me to accomplish this, if you so choose it."

Vilkas was dumbfounded, and quickly glanced towards Aela and Farkas, before turning back towards the man he respected like a father, and the woman he loved. "How can we make this decision…?" He whispered. Aela quickly approached him, gripping his shoulder to show support.

"Kodlak was old, already growing weak with age… Let him rest. Bring Sofja back." Before she could continue, Farkas approached as well.

"But Brother… It's Kodlak. I know you care about Sofja, but he was one of the greatest harbingers the Companions have seen in a hundred years… He was like our father."

Suddenly, Sofja's voice cut in. "I fought my battle, and lost. The Companions don't need me—"

"Enough!" Kodlak yelled. "Do not vex yourselves, you must defeat the beasts within first."

Vilkas nodded, taking a deep breath. As usual, Kodlak was right. There was no point in squabbling when they still had to fight. Approaching Ysgramor, Vilkas never felt so intimidated in all his life. Ysgramor was, as Kodlak often referred to him, the harbinger of them all, and the bringer of words. It was unfathomable that Vilkas was even standing in front of him. Without speaking, the massive, hulking spirit pushed Wuuthrad into Vilkas' hands. He'd never held it before, and was amazed at the lightness of it. Feeling the cool, ashen metal in his hands filled him with a new resolve, and looking up at Ysgramor, Vilkas nodded in respect. "I am ready to call the wolves forth." Ysgramor nodded back towards him.

"Stand with your shield brother and sister, and when you are prepared, I will allow them to cross back over from the hunting grounds of Hircine."

Vilkas walked back towards Aela and Farkas, and then nodded at Ysgramor. He jumped at the sound of Ysgramor's bellowing.

"Come forth, traitorous beasts! Come meet those who challenge you!"

The tomb began shaking again, as it had when Sofja challenged the spirit of the wolf, and seemingly out of nowhere, two massive, glowing-red wolves jumped towards Vilkas and the others. Vilkas smirked, preparing Wuuthrad.

"For our fallen!" He yelled, and the others followed suit. Suddenly, all three began charging at the wolves. Vilkas aimed for the neck of the first beast, swinging Wuuthrad down hard. The wolf moved quickly to the left, but at the sound of the second wolf coming up behind him, he swung the axe around, hitting its leg. It howled, its eyes lighting up with fury. Farkas and Aela managed to keep the first occupied, so Vilkas faced the second. It was slightly smaller than the other wolf, and although it was translucent like a spirit, he could tell it belonged to Sofja. It would make its defeat all the sweeter.

Charging at it again, he brought the axe down on its head. The creature cried out, only partially escaping the blow. The more Vilkas challenged it, the stronger and angrier it seemed to become. Aela and Farkas were struggling with Kodlak's wolf spirit, and he sprinted towards them just as Aela was brutally knocked to the ground. "With me, brother!" Vilkas yelled at Farkas, and they both ran at the wolf, raining their weapons down onto it. With a cry, it shuddered in pain, and gave Aela just enough time to get up.

Vilkas barely had time to react when the second wolf ran towards him, snarling with bared teeth and knocking him to the ground. Pouncing on top of him, it held him to the ground with its massive paws, its jaws snapping at his face. Vilkas cried out as its teeth made contact with his face, leaving a massive, bloody scratch along his cheek. Vilkas cried out in anger and pain, struggling, until Farkas came up from behind, stabbing the wolf in the shoulder. It jumped off of Vilkas, allowing him to get up.

Farkas turned back towards Aela and Kodlak's wolf, and with a final shove of their blades, it fell to the ground in defeat. Vilkas then turned his attention to Sofja's wolf. "You will not best us..." He whispered, wondering if it could understand. Readying Wuuthrad again, he charged at it one last time, and with a scream, brought the axe down onto the wolf's neck. It sputtered pathetically, crying out as it fell to the ground. In the blink of an eye, it melted into dust, disappearing. Vilkas fell to his knees with shock and relief; the deed was done. Wuuthrad disappeared from his hands and suddenly materialized in Ysgramor's grasp.

Ysgramor laughed heartily. "Well, it appears the Companion's are as strong as ever! And now your dead are free to enter into Sovngarde. But you have one more trial before you," he paused, crossing his massive, bulky arms in front of him. "Who do I return to you?"

Vilkas stared at Sofja. He wanted to say her name with all his heart. It had to be her, but... The Companions were reeling. With the loss of Kodlak, and increasing aggression from the Silver Hand, how could he do what was selfish when the Companions were so in need? With Kodlak returned to them, they could start to build what had been broken.

"It is no trial," Kodlak said steadily, turning to Ysgramor, "because I will not return to the world of the living. I have lived, and I have died, and now I wish to bask in the warmth of Sovngarde with my ancestors." Turning towards Sofja, he smiled kindly. "I must be selfish, for your sake. If anyone questions your ability to lead the Companions, it is because they do not know your heart as I do."

Sofja shook her head vehemently. "Kodlak, I haven't been with the Companions for more than six months, and you were a father to all of us... You don't have to make this sacrifice. Let me."

Kodlak chuckled. "Child, you speak as if I am the one who will make the sacrifice. I am tired. I have traveled a long road, and now I can sit among the kings of old. I can look upon my father's face again." He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, as if reliving a memory. "It is you who will struggle, who will have to heal, who will have to lead."

With that, Kodlak walked towards the rest of the Companions. To Farkas and Aela, he whispered something no one else could hear. They each nodded at him, their eyes misty with tears. When Kodlak reached Vilkas, he sighed.

"Before you ask, I go to Sovngarde freely and without regret. It is my time. Remember this," Kodlak said with kind, smiling eyes.

Vilkas nodded. "You were the best father a man could've asked for. The Companions will never be the same."

"And at any time, you can summon me here for council, or for comfort. I go to my peace, but I will never be too far. And you will have Sofja. I pray you do not let her far from you again... Enough has separated you; fear, anger, confusion, and now death. Let there be no more. You are a warrior with a bigger hear than most I know, Vilkas."

Vilkas smiled weakly, nodding. It was a strange sensation to say goodbye to Kodlak, when he had already dealt with his death. He was lucky he had the chance to do so.

With that, Kodlak turned and walked towards Ysgramor, who stood again at the top of the altar by the throne where he first appeared. "I am ready," he said quietly. With a nod, Ysgramor swung Wuuthrad to the ground. From the spot, a beam of light shot up.

"Pass through that light, and you will see the gates of Sovngarde," Ysgramor said softly.

Kodlak turned towards the Companions as they stood gaping, in awe of what was about to happen. "I go to peace, my children. Take care of each other, and let the name of the Companions live on." With that, he took a step into the light, and vanished.

All stood somberly, even Sofja, who was only an apparition. Ysgramor began clapping, while the others remained silent. "Why do you not rejoice, Companions? Your leader has gone to paradise, to the world beyond. Now, comes the hard part." He walked down from the altar towards Sofja, and without warning, swung Wuuthrad straight into her stomach. She cried out as if she could feel the blow, lurching forward, when suddenly she vanished.

"What are you doing?!" Vilkas cried out in shock. Aela yelled in surprise and Farkas gripped the hilt of sword.

"Be easy, Companions... I have banished her spirit from this place. It will return to her body soon. Until she wakes, take your leave of this place and let her rest. Her body has been through much, and she will need healing if she is even to survive."

* * *

><p>Vilkas paced back and forth in the main foyer of Jorrvaskr. Dawn was approaching. It had been two days since they'd returned with Sofja, two days she'd been resting under the watchful eyes of those at the temple of Kynareth, and two days she hadn't so much as twitched a finger or took a breath. Could Ysgramor have been wrong about this? Could her spirit have been lost along the way, somehow? He had stayed by Sofja's side the past two days, only leaving a few hours before because he was so tired, he was starting to hallucinate. Aela forced him to go back to Jorrvaskr and sleep...only when he tried, he suddenly felt more awake than he had in months. So he paced instead.<p>

Leaning his head against the wall near the front doors, Vilkas tried to calm himself and breathe. All he could think about was Sofja lying there, and how the future of the Companions was at stake. If Sofja didn't make it, then Vilkas would put forth his name for Harbinger. He couldn't imagine anyone else wanting the job... But he was no Kodlak, and Vilkas couldn't imagine going on without seeing Sofja's face again.

Thankfully, the door slammed open, nearly hitting him. Aela rushed in with a crazed look in her eyes. Before she could speak a word to Vilkas, he pushed past her out the door. He knew what that look meant.

Rushing to the temple of Kynareth, he bashed through the doors, looking around frantically. Finally, he saw her—Sofja, lying on one of the cots towards the back of the room. Some of the priestesses tried to calm him down and quiet him, bu the wouldn't listen. His dark eyes filled with hope. Rushing towards the cot that held her, stopped at her bedside, watching carefully. _She was breathing._

_"_She's still in much pain," an old priestess with gray eyes and a kind look said. "The wound on her chest killed her, mind you...this will be the defining moment. Either she will wake, or her body will give up the fight, and she will pass to Sovngarde."

"I thank you for everything you've done in helping restore her to us," Vilkas said, running his fingers through his blackish hair. She nodded at him slowly, stepping away to give him some privacy. This would either be the moment of their joy, or a final goodbye.

"I know you're in there," he whispered, leaning down next to the cot. "And I will spend every moment by your side until you win this fight." He stroked her reddish hair, praying to the Nine. _Come back to me, come back..._

After a few moments, her breathing became labored, and Vilkas looked up, fear striking him. This might be the moment he would lose her truly, and forever. The priestesses came rushing towards him. But then... Her eyes opened.

"Vilkas?" She whispered, blinking in confusion.

He smiled widely, and without waiting another second, pressed his lips to Sofja's, kissing her hard. She groaned slightly in pain, and Vilkas quickly pulled away from her, smiling sheepishly, his dark eyes sparkling with shock and excitement.

"I've only been alive for two minutes, I'm still fragile..." She whispered again, smiling tiredly at him. Her skin was pale and dirty, but she was just as beautiful as he remembered.

Vilkas chuckled. "I'm sorry, but... I'm never going to take another chance. You mean too much to me, Dragonborn. I love you."

Her light eyes gleaming, Sofja stared up at Vilkas as he stroked her cheek. "And I love you. Now kiss me again... Just more gently this time."

Vilkas nodded, happy to oblige. Finally, Sofja had been returned to him, and Vilkas knew that they would never be parted again. All was right with the world.


End file.
